Daddy Dearest
by Daniko
Summary: Harry Potter wanted peace and rest and a normal life after the demise of the Dark Lord. He got none. Suddenly, he finds himself with a baby, remedial lessons with Severus Snape and a very nosy McGonagall. Slash; AR.
1. Prologue

**Rating:** M/NC-17

**Disclaimer:** This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoat Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended – _Standard disclaimer_.

**Warnings:** Foul language and explicit sexual content between two males – slash; angst; spoilers; AR.

**Summary:** Harry Potter wanted peace and rest and a normal life after the demise of the Dark Lord. He got none. Suddenly, he finds himself with a baby, remedial lessons with Severus Snape and a very nosy McGonagall.

**Words: **~1,500

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**DADDY DEAREST**

**Prologue**

By Dani-ko  
Beta'd by WithDemonWings

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_-_ _May, 4__th__ of __2001_ _-_

Severus Snape entered the Great Hall for breakfast, the phoenix-shaped handle of his cane clutched tightly in his right hand; he was definitely in a joyous mood as he rarely was on Mondays – or any other day, really. Of course, he wasn't displaying his joy in a common manner, but those who knew him could tell that something was definitely brighter in the man's live.

However, Severus' mood soured when he saw everybody staring wide-eyed at him. He was used to frightened stares, stares of awe, or deferential stares – mainly Slytherin – but these―_surprised_, and seemingly impressed, stares annoyed him. He sat down beside the Headmistress, and she was also looking at him oddly, even though her oddness was one of smug satisfaction―

Albus used to look at him like that, every time Severus conceded him a point, but Severus didn't remember agreeing with Minerva McGonagall on anything, insignificant or material, lately. In fact, he had spent the weekend mostly―around―Potter! He snapped his head at her.

"The newspaper," he demanded through gritted teeth. Minerva's smirk deepened, as she handed him the folded piece of paper. A collective gasp was heard and then silence reigned in the room as students and teachers alike apprehensively watched Severus read _The Daily Prophet,_ his eyes widening by the second and a murderous scowl take over his face.

Severus' heart started to beat faster – a little too fast for it to be healthy – when he looked at the front page. The cover was mainly occupied by a photograph featuring him, the brat and the brat's spawn entering Potter's house in the village. By some sadistic coincidence of the Fates, the photographer – who had his death sentence signed with this picture – caught Snape smirking, or smiling rather fondly, if you ask anyone else, at the two Potter demons, while Harry laughed happily and James – whose face was distorted; at least they conceded Harry that grace – slept peacefully in his carrier.

Severus decided to focus on the article, before his patience snapped. It was of no good.

"DADDY DEAREST?

"A new beginning for our tormented heroes

"_Harry Potter, the hero of the Second Wizarding War, was seen last Saturday evening in the company of none other than Severus Snape, Potions Master and duellist extraordinaire, after an ordinary grocery shopping at a traditional store in the Wizarding village of Hogsmeade__. Both men were looking quite comfortable and at ease with each other. Snape, known for his harsh character, appeared to be very pleased with his young companion and, more than once during their walk, was seen laughing and playing with the child. Later, Professor Snape probably had dinner with the Golden Boy in his home since he left quite late in the evening._

"The tragedy of the Potter Family

"_We all know how You-Know-Who targeted the elder Potter couple in a misdirected attempt to eliminate his mortal nemesis, a tragedy in itself certainly, but the family's disgrace did not end there._

"_Harry Potter, who by all means deserved a peaceful life after You-Know-Who's demise, found himself targeted again, but this time by an old girlfriend. The youngest of the Weasley clan, enraged by her lover's rejection, decided to take revenge on he who was once a brother to her. Anonymous sources, located by our reporters during all yesterday, enlightened us __about what really occurred between the ex-lovers a year and a half ago. _

"_Ginevra "Ginny" Weasley kidnapped our one Harry Potter and got herself pregnant with his baby _('What?' Severus thought)_. Thankfully, she didn't force herself upon Mr. Potter, but she violated his wishes and made the necessary arrangements to bear the child and permanently_ _bind the father to herself _('Oh, good Lord, the woman was completely mad!')_. Miss Weasley ran away with her baby and it took our hero and the Weasley clan six months to find her. The end of her pregnancy was risky, but Harry Potter refused to give away his happiness and succumb to Miss Weasley's emotional blackmail._

"_Miss Weasley gave up the custody of her baby son, James Severus Potter, before she even got a look at the boy. She later tried to commit suicide twice and was committed in St. Mungo's Psychiatric ward; she finally succeeded at the third attempt._

"_Harry Potter mourned for his lost lover and friend, but for the love of his baby boy, he carried on with his life. His Quidditch career ended earlier than it should – making England lose its best Seeker of the last century__. In order to protect his son from the eager public's eyes, Mr. Potter cancelled his contract with the Puddlemore United Quidditch Team and accepted an apprenticeship with Mr. Ollivander in wandlore, one of the most mysterious and secretive arts of Magic._

_If past achievements – such as being the youngest Tri-Wizard Champion or the youngest Seeker to ever complete internationally, beating the record previously held by Viktor Krum – failed to convince you, this gives us the certain that Mr. Potter was made for great things._

"_Harry Potter's life, conquests and achievements, page 4._

"The Dark Hero brings light into the Potters' life

"_In order to be a fair choice for Mr. Ollivander, Harry Potter has chosen to complete his NEWTs in _Hogwarts School of Wizardry and Witchcraft_, which he had never needed before for being more than accounted in his talents against the Dark Arts. Professor Snape has kindly agreed to privately tutor Mr. Potter since the beginning of March and until the end of the school term._

"_It would seem that during these _private_ sessions Mr. Potter and Professor Snape had become close and a tentative friendship ensued._

"_Professor Snape, being a highly talented wizard, found himself a match in Harry Potter. The Boy-Who-Lived-Twice seems to have forgiven Professor Snape's __Dark past and previous allegiance in the light of his war achievements and fiercely loyal support _('Three years ago was 'desperate turncoat' and now is 'fiercely loyal'?')_._

"_Ever since Potter started to __attend these classes, he has been much more relaxed and friendly," stated a source inside Hogwarts. "He often mentions Snape and how much fun they have together. The kid really likes Snape, too, and Snape takes care of the boy frequently."_

"_Professor Snape's resumed biography, page 7._

"Wizarding Bonding on the way?

"_In__ light of this new information, one has to wonder, _'_Why did Harry Potter broke his affair with Miss Weasley?_'_ and _'_How long has lasted his connection with Professor Snape?_'_ For these questions, we have no answers, but we can speculate._

"_It is common knowledge that Professor Snape and Harry Potter had a difficult beginning at Hogwarts, since Mr. Potter's father and his friends often bullied the young Severus. Professor Snape believed Mr. Potter to be no different. Maybe along the way, and especially since the Second Wizarding War, both men have become closer than people guess. And, let's not forget, Mr. Potter's son has Professor Snape's name . . . Could it be that Harry Potter's affections run deeper than we all were led to believe? Could it be that Professor Snape is 'the-one-and-only' for our great Hero? Could it be that by a devious plan engendered by Miss Weasley, the lovers were wrongly separated?_

"_Judging by the photograph, Harry Potter has finally found the peace and love he so desperately seeks and we have to __agree that both Mr. Potter and Professor Snape deserve it."_

Once he reached the end of page three, Severus was seething. The crystal glasses and windows were rattling with his repressed anger. The reason was not the article – oh, no, he was past that – but the events that the article referred to. He could not believe that this had been happening under his nose – which is rather large, therefore he should've been able to sniff out the mentioned events quite easily – and he hadn't even noticed.

True, he had been mad with Potter because of his Pensieve memories, but that had been two years previous and just because he was mad, he shouldn't have been misinformed . . . _'Oh, good Lord, has Potter read the paper already? Is the brat okay? Perhaps I should go check on him . . . or send Minerva . . .'_ Yes, because Severus could not show how concerned he actually was about the man _'Of course not! Harry would have me committed.'_ He just did not wish to be falsely accused of anything _'Because that has certainly _never_ happened before.'_

Severus looked up at the Headmistress. Minerva was watching him fretfully. By now, the silverware had stopped rattling.

"I would say that the first 'source' is a member of the staff at St. Mungo's," he started, tightly. Minerva nodded.

"The Auror Office has already started the investigations, but they cannot stop the press."

"And the second one," Snape wondered absentmindedly. "I bet it is one of my Slytherins," he mused darkly, already scheming a way to find out the little rat disguised as a snake . . .

At the end of the table, Professor Remus Lupin had scrabbled a note on a piece of napkin and was trying to convince an owl to take it – the proud animal was not budging. Professor Hermione Granger was fidgeting in worry while reading the article once more, thinking about Harry's reaction to the newspaper, and re-planning her schedule to pay Miss Skeeter a well-deserved visit.

- xXxXx -

_As usual, when Rita Skeeter is concerned, the piece was one great pile of embellishment, dramatics and plain flamboyant lie – however this time, she __might not be very far from the truth . . ._

_Perhaps we __should travel some time back, in order to make a better sense of the story. It had all started a few months earlier―_

TBC

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**Thank you for reading.**


	2. Beneath the Mask

**Rating: **M/NC-17

**Disclaimer:** This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoat Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended – _Standard disclaimer_.

**Warnings:** SS/HP; foul language and explicit sexual content between two males – slash; angst; spoilers; AR.

**Words: **~10,000

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**Chapter 1: ****Beneath the Mask**

By Dani-ko  
Beta'd by WithDemonWings

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_-_ _March, 10th of 2001_ _-_

The Hogwarts School of Wizardry and Witchcraft stood magnificent in the green hill. Odd looking blue birds flew in circles around the dark canopy of the forest, the Whopping Willow was cleaning its twigs and threatening the rabbits on the ground with its mighty roots, and the lake reflected the bright March sun. It was a peaceful day overall―

"You cannot do that, Professor," Harry Potter exclaimed, appalled.

Not such peaceful day for some, though . . .

"Mr. Potter, do not take that tone with me," Minerva McGonagall chastised, shaking a finger at him. "Severus has done you a great favour by accepting to tutor you on such short notice; he is the best choice anyone could wish for. I can't even believe he accepted it." Harry slumped against the high chair in front of the Headmistress' desk. He had no problem believing it; he could bet that Snape was dying to lynch Harry as revenge for having disclosed the man's memories publically.

Behind the tall woman, a mighty portrait of Albus Dumbledore was feigning sleep while listening carefully to the conversation. The office was exactly as Harry remembered it. It was comforting thinking that Hogwarts was an unchangeable sanctuary where he could always plead for shelter―

Well, not always, apparently.

"Of course he accepted. He wants to torture me." Harry pointed out through gritted teeth, at last. McGonagall shot him a disapproving look and he subsided a little. "He doesn't have to bother," Harry grumbled under his breath quite petulantly. "I'm familiar with his teaching skills, that's why I'm so _good_ at Occlumancy―"

"Mr. Potter, do grow up," McGonagall suggested dryly after rolling her eyes in exasperation, plainly ignoring his sarcasm; she poured them some tea. Harry sighed and changed his tactics.

"Professor, seriously, you know why I opted for private tutoring," he tried to reason. "Can you see Severus Snape being lenient with me over that subject?" Her face softened and she gave him a sympathetic look. "I don't understand why you insist he is a good teacher, but I respect your opinion. The thing is that I have three months before the NEWTs and I don't think Severus Snape is going to get me through them . . ."

"Believe me, Mr. Potter, when I tell you that this is going to be a great opportunity for you." McGonagall said cryptically. _'_―_both,'_ she added mentally.

Realising he had lost the argument, Harry finished his tea and got up, shaking the Headmistress' hand before heading out. When he reached the doorway, he looked back to bid her good-bye one last time and saw that she had this sadistic smirk on her face.

It did nothing to ease his anxiety, mainly because he was sure that said look was the equivalent of Albus Dumbledore's twinkling eyes and – as it was common knowledge in the WizardingWizarding world – when one was on the receiving end of such a look, one's life was about to be changed irrevocably.

- xXxXx -

Harry walked anxiously through the halls of the dungeons, trying to take as much time as he could without being late – because that would simply be suicidal. He stopped in front of the door to his old Potions classroom. He knew he had to knock and expect Snape's permission, but his instinct was telling him to run – run and hide!

Oh, it was not like Harry still disliked Snape; he didn't, not at all, he thought as he remembered a scene that happened three years ago . . .

_Harry__ entered the hospital room with soft steps, his ceremony robes billowing behind him a manner that would make the occupant of the bed very proud_._ His Order of Merlin,_ _First Class'_ _blue_ _ribbon hung on his chest and he clutched a different_ _ribbon – this one coloured in red – in his hand; it read 'Severus Snape, the Dark Hero'. To Harry, it sounded like something to be written in a tombstone, but since his wasn't any better – 'Harry Potter, the Great Vanquisher' which was _unbelievably tacky_, according to a very sour Draco Malfoy – he remained silent._

_Harry approached the last bed __in the room and gazed at his occupant with compassion and tenderness. Severus Snape looked like the dead, with deep bags under his eyes, unhealed cuts on his face and crimson-stained bandages on his neck, but that was not anything new. Harry sat beside the motionless figure and leaned closer, basking in the heat of another human being._

_Harry had been visit__ing Snape every other day for the past three months. The man was in a coma induced by Nagini's poison and it was uncertain if he was ever going to wake up. Harry had been a bit lost in the aftermath of the war and he found Snape to be a good listener_ _– which had probably something to do with the fact that he wasn't able to shut Harry up even if he wanted to._

_Harry had talked to Snape and he had told him things he had never shared with anyone else . . . it had felt very good to just _talk_._

_Nobody could assure him that Snape was listening, but Harry hadn't cared. The Healer had allowed Harry to visit, even if she often advised him to sever his ties with Snape and move on, because it was not likely __the man was ever going to wake up. Again, Harry hadn't cared and kept on coming._

_That day, Harry arrived from the Ministry's ceremony in honour of war heroes. He had shown the memories Snape had given him thinking they were his last thoughts, and Snape had been pardoned and given his due respect and praise for twenty-years of espionage._

"_You are a hero and now the whole world knows that," Harry told Snape, gently pushing the black locks from the man's hollow face. He held Snape's limp hand in his free one. He stayed there for the rest of the evening, telling Snape everything about the ceremony, even about how the Malfoys were honoured for saving Harry's life three times during the war; he was sure Snape would like to know that._

_The sun changed in the sky and the hospital room started to glow __due to the setting sun's light. The Healer came into the room and watched the raven-haired teen whisper words of appreciation to his old Potions teacher. She gave him a sympathetic look, but she said nothing. If Snape ever woke up, Harry would have his fantasies about the man painfully shattered._

_Harry didn't let that the happen._

_The first time Snape squeezed Harry's hand, Harry called the mediwitch and bolted to the door_. _Later, he visited to make sure that Snape was indeed alright and that he would be recovering fully. He wouldn't. He would probably walk with a limp for the rest of his life. The guilt Harry felt was overwhelming._

_Harry didn't greet Snape that time, nor did he return any other day. Snape __also didn't try to find him._

Dispersing this thoughts and pushing away any stray nostalgia, Harry knocked on the door at exactly six p.m., remembering himself that this was Severus Snape, a man who hated Harry deeply, and not his unwilling confident. This was about Harry's NEWTs, nothing more.

Harry had done some soul-search and came to realise that what had bothered him about this arrangement was that he dreaded his confrontation with Snape.

The young man understood – especially after many conversations with Hermione – that he had created an illusion in his head of what Snape was like. _"I'm serious, Harry,"_ Hermione had said, while she spared him a sympathetic look. _"I think you see Snape as your 'knight-in-a-shining-armour'. It's obsessive and dysfunctional, but quite understandable."_ Harry had looked at her hesitantly, wanting to speak up, but not sure about what to say.

While he could easily believe her, he really didn't want to see his fantasies shattered by facing the man; he needed to believe that, given the opportunity, Snape would show that his admiration for him ran as deep as Harry's admiration for Snape. That's why Harry hadn't tried to contact Snape after he had woken up. He had thought he could live with Snape's hatred and his own illusions. Instead, Harry felt trapped and unable to move on.

Simply said, Harry fancied his old Potions teacher – had done so for a long time.

As a teenager, such affection had revolted him and he had done everything he could to placate it, but Snape's loathing towards him had only made him miserable instead of making him free. It was only after the last battle – after Harry being confronted with the truth about Snape – that he rationally accepted what he had always known in his heart: Snape was a good man. Harry couldn't have accepted a Dark wizard, but Snape was not one.

Snape might have an appalling personality, but that was something one could accept. All the things he had learned about the Potions Master made him understand the man a whole lot better than before. He found out that he rather liked this version of Snape.

"Enter." Hearing the deep voice of Snape made Harry quiver in anticipation. He took a deep breath and opened the door, stepping inside quietly.

Snape was sitting at his desk, hunched over it, focused on a piece of parchment which had far too much red on it to be graded with anything other than _Horrible_. He would flick his tongue in disapproval every time he read a particularly dense paragraph. Harry found the sight oddly amusing. Snape was starting to look like a grouchy old teacher and it was very endearing.

"Sir?" the younger wizard called, approaching one of the front desks. Snape spared him a quick glance and an absent nod of recognition. He proceeded to clear his students' essays into one of the drawers and neatly clean up his desk. Harry stood there, waiting for Snape to deign him with his attention and took the opportunity to consider the teacher in the sickly green light of the classroom.

Over the last seven years, Snape had changed. He was, undoubtedly, still the same, if the aura of austerity was anything to go by. One ought to expect that once the war was over, Snape would be more carefree and resent his students less, but that didn't seem to be the case. He had gained weight, Harry could tell. Far from being the slender, unhealthy man he once was, now he had a strong built; the skin was not shallow anymore, but had a healthy glow about it, even if he was still abnormally pale; his greasy hair was longer and tied at the base of his neck.

Harry was so absorbed considering the man in front of him that he didn't notice when said man looked up with a peculiar frown on his face, as if something was out of place.

"Are you quite finished ogling me, Mr. Potter?" Snape drawled, all of a sudden.

Harry startled and blushed ten different shades of red – one for each impure thought he had regarding his teacher, and that included thinking that he _sounded_ nice. When he looked up again, he saw Snape considering him curiously; the spark of emotion in the dark eyes was so unexpected and fitted Snape so well that Harry blushed again and looked away in embarrassment at his own bashful behaviour. It was disturbing to see the man so unguarded and not unpleasant at all.

Harry wished he had been present in Snape's life for the past three years to see what had made Snape this—carefree? Not that, by normal standards, the word 'carefree' would ever apply to Snape . . . Maybe it was a woman. The thought alone made Harry very depressed.

"How are these lessons going to work, sir?" Harry asked quietly, busying himself with the issue that had brought him there.

Snape was assessing the young man in front of him. He stood up slowly; straightening to his full height, his shoulders square and head held high, and limped around the desk, coming to stand in front of Harry – who was suddenly terribly conscious of how close the teacher's desk and the front desks actually were. Snape leaned against his desk and placed his onyx cane beside him – the handle was an ivory phoenix with spread wings and ruby eyes. the man hid his hands inside his robes.

Unconsciously, Harry ran a hand through his hair, nervously waiting for the outcome.

"You're still short," Severus said, as if that was the only thing he deemed worthy of notice – the broad shoulders, the determinate eyes, fiery, but somehow much more cautious since the war, the pink cheeks, the rosy lips, the strong limbs, these were things Severus didn't think Harry would like to have him discern. The shortness could be an issue in some of their practical lessons, though. How Harry missed the hungry glint his eyes acquire for a fleeting second was beyond his comprehension.

Oh, Harry had no way of knowing that it was his very own existence that had made Severus Snape wish for each sunrise – tacky as that sounded; Severus was glad that Harry was a terrible Legilimens.

"Well, it's not my fault you're abnormally tall," Harry replied right away, as a reflex – one he hadn't had since his school days – and then his eyes widened when he realised that he had _talked_ _back_.

Snape blinked at him, but thenhis mouth twitched upwards. Harry could almost swear Snape was fighting a smirk.

"We shall meet every day at six p.m. and will work till eight p.m.," the Potions Master explained impassively, ignoring the jab at his height. "I have my classes to teach and I have enough of dim-witted children to deal with, I do not need another one in my free time. If I feel in any way that you are wasting my time, I shall send you on your merry way immediately." The speech appeared to be a shadow of Snape's previous ones, without spite, resentment or bitterness behind it. Harry nodded, nonetheless. "Answer me in English, not with mimics."

"Yes, sir," Harry said immediately. Snape nodded in satisfaction.

"Very well," the teacher began. "I have your classes planned, but I will not inform you on which days you have which subject. I expect you to be prepared for any of them every day of the week."

"Yes, sir," Harry parroted again. The man acknowledged this with a soft shake of his head and then he cleared his throat forcefully.

"Before we begin, Mr. Potter I wish to speak with you about a few things, if that's acceptable?" His tone was different, deeper, sincere. Harry's eyes widened in surprise and a light blush of awe made its way to his cheeks. If Snape noticed, he ignored it.

"Yes, of course, Professor," he replied, firmly gathering his bearings – he couldn't remember a time he had voluntarily called Snape 'Professor'; it meant acknowledging his authority. Snape looked into the young man's eyes. Harry thought he appeared to be under tension; the man clutched his cane with his right hand and his knuckles turned white, though Harry didn't notice it.

"I wish to thank you."

All of a sudden, Harry became very flushed with pleasure. Snape was a brilliant, talented man and he accepted nothing less than perfection; for someone as proud as him to be lowering himself to show appreciation for Harry Potter of all people . . . Harry found that he didn't need Snape's verbal appreciation, even though he had demanded it most of his life; for Harry, it was enough that Snape had deemed him worthy of it.

Snape didn't seem averse to Harry's presence like before, at least. Maybe they could forge a cordial relationship based on mutual respect for their war times―_maybe_.

"Please, Professor, it's fine―" Harry waved his hands in front of Snape urgently.

"No, it is not, Mr. Potter," Snape interrupted, looking at Harry and his tone was so chastising that Harry fought the urge to shout "Yes, sir"_._ He shifted nervously. "I appreciate you clearing my name and restoring my reputation. You could've walked away, but you didn't. You honoured Albus' memory and I like to believe you honoured your mother's as well."

Harry tensed. There was a gigantic lump in his throat that prevented him from speaking. He blinked a couple of times – and then a couple more – and cleared his throat forcefully. Snape's gratitude was so close to approval that he could not help but feel overwhelmed by delight. When he spoke again his tone was shaky. "I wouldn't have walked away."

"I've come to realise that," was Snape's concise reply, but his tone was gentle, his deep voice touching Harry in ways that he didn't dare to think about. "I did not believe there would be someone worthy of my admiration; conversely as usual, you proved me wrong." He hesitated, as if he was unsure about what he would say next. "Mr. Potter, I would've tried to find you sooner, but I feared that my presence would be unwelcome in your life and I certainly―"

"You presence would've been very much welcome in my life!" Harry all but shouted – and then blushed deeply when he realised what he had said. He looked down and kicked himself mentally, but he hadn't wanted the teacher to feel as if Harry still disliked him in any way. Of course, he didn't have to be so fervent about it, but Snape always turned him into an awkward fourteen year old incapable of proper speech.

Snape blinked in surprise and seemed thrown of balance. It made him younger and so much more approachable. Harry's breath caught in his throat at such a sight. He found himself smiling encouragingly at his teacher. Not even in his wildest dreams he had imagined such a thing would happened.

"Really, Mr. Potter, you never cease to surprise me," the teacher said, regaining his composure.

Harry smiled hesitantly, thankful for the veiled compliment; he truly appreciated the peace between them because he didn't think he could have dealt with a spiteful and angry Snape. Snape quirked a questioning eyebrow at Harry, but did not commented any further. Being an open book, Harry could guess what Snape had seen in his eyes – longing.

"I thought it to be better if we start with Potions," Snape proceeded. It was Harry's worst subject after all. "First, we shall do a diagnosis test . . ."

It took Harry over half an hour to finish the quiz and it took Snape ten minutes to correct it. When he got to the end, his eyes were so frustrated that Harry knew for sure that he had failed spectacularly, but really, not even during the four years of fighting the Darkest wizards did Harry come to encounter such potions. Of course, Snape had to choose those. Now, why Snape didn't appear satisfied by Harry's inanity was a mystery, but, as Harry was starting to realise, there were a lot of things he had been wrong to expect from the teacher.

"Quite frankly, Mr. Potter, aside from Mr. Longbottom, I don't believe I ever had such a poorly gifted student."

Snape looked sideways from the desk beside Harry's – where he had sat down, unable to keep standing looming over Harry while the young man completed the quiz.

Once again, his words were plain and free of malice, his tone contrasting vehemently with his speech. Snape sounded―concerned? Did his students get this attitude as well? Harry could imagine Snape being a good teacher, full of sarcasm and amusing irony, unwilling to hurt his students with his insults, showing them paths and connections between subjects that their teenage minds could not see – acting like the brilliant man he was, in short.

Then again, Harry would probably still get the same old attitude, since he was or had been – he was not sure at this point – the symbol of everything Snape abhorred.

Snape had despised Harry's luck and the fact that he achieved everything with more than just a little of it; he despised that everything had come so easy to the Golden Boy when Severus had to fight for his own every moment of his life . . .

Regardless of that, being the smart man that he was, Severus soon realised the deeper meaning of his loathing. Harry had been the cause of Lily's death, which made Severus lose his only friend and his chance of absolution. His love for Lily had made Severus human and, no matter how Dark his life got, Lily would mean there was still something good within him. When she had died, despair had taken over him.

Somewhere along the decade Severus had known Harry, he had transferred what Lily meant to him onto her child, in a different kind of way. When the young Harry had screamed and yelled his hatred towards Severus, Severus had been reminded of how disgusting he truly was. He needed to be reminded in order to keep himself sane and not lose himself in his own darkness―

Harry's voice brought Severus back to the present.

"I apologise, sir, but I believe that that's why I am here," Harry replied matter-of-factly, tying to hide his confusion at how his first lesson was going. He was surprised to see a glint of amusement and relief in Snape's eyes. Yes, Severus wished to be reminded that their arrangement was not personal.

Honestly, facing Harry Potter after all his time . . .

Severus had changed, he was a different man. To survive when one was meant to die, it changed one's vision of the world and suddenly there were things one was aware of, things worthy of fighting for . . . Being nice to an awkward student, complimenting someone with a poor sense of worth, encourage house unity or praise Gryffindors and Hufflepuffs from time to time, tended to make one cared for and respected.

Severus had found that he needed people more than he cared to admit. He had friends now, something he had forgone even during his boyhood – Remus Lupin, DADA teacher and former Marauder, was one of them. Go figure. He bet that Sirius Black was spinning in his grave and that thought brought him an immense satisfaction – yes, he allowed himself to keep some old grudges in his new quiet life.

In this point of his life, Harry Potter meant absolution and Severus was not sure if he could refrain himself from demanding it.

Harry saw Snape look away. The Potions Master didn't Occlude, opting for more basic methods of hiding his emotions. It made Harry wonder if Snape was unconsciously tired of closing himself up.

"One would think so," the teacher replied at last, but he appeared to be reminding himself of something rather than talking to Harry, which made Harry frown. Snape cleared his throat and proceeded, "Well, Mr. Potter, today it will be a theoretic lesson. Do take your out your notebook." Harry did so and, throughout the rest of the period, Snape talked and Harry listened.

Much to Harry's annoyance, Snape thought it to be necessary to remind Harry of the most basic concepts of Potion-making, such as its components – base, core and essence – correct ways of handling the ingredients and correct ways of mixing them; what groups of ingredients could not be mixed and what groups had what effects, etc.

And much to Severus' satisfaction, Harry wasn't aware of most of it.

"That's it for today, Mr. Potter, I expect you to study the lesson for next day," Snape said at last, erasing the contents of the board with a wave of his hand. Harry sighed in relief.

"Thank Merlin," he muttered loud enough for Snape to hear; the man shot him a look.

"You rather cheat using the notes from _my_ school book?" he asked smoothly – Harry bet it had been eating him up the fact that Harry had done so and Snape hadn't been able to catch him. Severus was not disappointed when Harry blushed brightly and looked down ashamed. "Did you think I didn't know, Mr. Potter?"

"I had hoped you didn't."

"Clearly," Snape replied with a smirk. He sobered. "Do you still have it?" There was no way he could have missed the guilt in the young man's eyes.

"Er, actually—"

"Yes?"

"I hid it in the Room of Hidden Things," Harry explained. Snape blanched and his eyes glinted with disappointment. Harry elaborated immediately, "I was hiding it from you and I forgot about it and then the room burned – I'm really sorry, I know it's irreplaceable, but—"

"It was indeed irreplaceable," Snape said and he spared Harry a – _truly lovely _– smile, complete with pointy teeth and glinting eyes, "but you must not worry about it; there were circumstances that were beyond our control and we should put that behind us—"

"If there is anything I can do to make it up to you . . ." Harry began. Snape's eyes glinted with something that made Harry feel uncomfortable and _hot_, but it was so feeble that Harry could not identify it and then he thought that maybe he had imagined it.

"Achieve your NEWTs and don't be a waste of my time," Severus replied silkily at last. Harry grinned and nodded.

"Yes, sir."

- xXxXx -

The Headmistress sat in her office, listening to Albus bicker with Armando Dippet, while she waited for her guests.

Dinner would be ending shortly; they shouldn't take long. As if summoned, she heard a knock on the door. McGonagall gave her permission and the door opened, revealing Hermione Granger and Remus Lupin, teachers of Transfiguration and DADA, respectively.

Hermione had worked for the Ministry for three years, but soon she had accomplished her objectives and felt the calling of teaching and home, thus taking McGonagall's previous position so that the Headmistress could focus on her Headmistress' duties; Remus, having nowhere to go and being more than accounted in his teaching abilities had also been welcomed home. Hogwarts was their home.

They smiled at her, greeted her politely and took their places in the high chairs in front of her desk.

"Good afternoon, Professor," Hermione said. McGonagall smiled indulgently.

"Really, Miss Granger, we are colleagues, when are you going to start calling me by my given name?" Predictably, Hermione blushed embarrassed. Remus chuckled at the girl's awkwardness.

"You can't imagine how I had to fight to have her calling me Remus," the werewolf put in fondly. Hermione chuckled nervously, glancing apologetically at her two former teachers. McGonagall gave them a moment to tease each other freely, but she thought to be her responsibility to bring up the dreaded subject.

"So, what brings us here, professors?" she asked. Hermione gave her a weak smile and cleared her throat.

"We're worried about Harry, Professor."

McGonagall sighed; she had been expecting this much. Severus had really done a number on Hogwarts' Gryffindors. She couldn't say she regretted her decision, though, since she saw it come to fruition every day, because Severus was becoming more relaxed and amenable every day. He had even stopped casting a glamour to hide the tiredness and hopelessness of his expression. It was as if he had found his solace.

Albus' had once said to her – after she had expressed her concern for Harry's Occlumancy lessons – that Harry and Severus were like two sides of the same coin, so she would push them together and see if they reacted. A very Gryffindor-ish approach. The world was fortunate that Albus Dumbledore had a Slytherin bone or else he might have shoved Harry into an arena with Voldemort and see which would come out alive.

What McGonagall couldn't have possibly known, though, was what Dumbledore, in his centennial wisdom, had seen in Severus and Harry. They were trapped in their past and they had made each other their life-line.

"How is Harry doing?" McGonagall asked at last, more to appease them than because she really was worried. It was Remus who answered, after getting a very meaningful glance from Hermione.

"He's wonderful, Minerva," he explained concisely. "He cooks, he is always singing, he plays with James, he studies, he reads, he goes out―"

"I'm really worried, Professor," Hermione intervened. "Harry is happy now, but this won't last forever and Snape is not a good person and Harry will be the one to get hurt in the end―"

"Hermione, I don't―" Remus tried to say, but the young woman interrupted him right away.

"Professor McGonagall has to know," she said, turning he eyes to her predecessor. "He just wants someone to love, someone who can care for him as well." Hermione's pain-stricken speech told McGonagall how much she cared for Harry.

"What do you suggest, then?" McGonagall asked, interrupting the young woman's rant.

"I want Harry out of Snape's clutches," Remus replied immediately. As the last living friend of James and Lily, Remus considered it to be his task to take care of Harry and, even if he had found a good friendship with Severus, he doubted that his arrangement would have a positive outcome – for both of them.

"Yes, Professor," Hermione said for support. "Harry has spent three years pining after Snape, maybe now that he has James he can let it go."

"He had other relationships," Remus reminded her reluctantly – he had never liked any of the man Harry had dated; for once, they were all terribly submissive and Remus hated groupies. It was better not even mention Ginny Weasley.

"Which lasted at most one month," the young woman replied, holding up one forefinger. She turned to McGonagall. "Seriously, professor, this behaviour is addictive. Two emotionally crippled men cannot be leaning on each other. I think they should not be forced together."

"Miss Granger, this is not a matter of playing matchmaker. I really have no choice but to have Severus tutoring Harry," the elder woman explained. "You and Remus are busy with your house duties and I shall not have Ravenclaw and Gryffindor impaired because of a petty old grudge," she concluded austerely. "I still believe this could do them good. We just have to hope that they can see past each other."

Hermione and Remus stared at her in doubt, as if measuring their wills against the Headmistress' to see which one won. Regardless to say, McGonagall did.

- xXxXx -

Over the past few weeks, Harry had worked like he had never done in his life.

It started with a tentative cordiality towards each other, with polite greetings, quiet questions and hesitant requests for clarification; with gentle reprimands and carefully constructed sarcasm. Harry would come, learn what Snape had to teach him and thank him for it graciously in the end; Severus would adapt his methods to Harry's learning skills and, while he demanded perfection and competence in every assignment, he was also more generous in his compliments as long as Harry had risen up to the challenge, which happened more often than not.

Throughout his life, Severus had always separated his work from his private life; students were students, not someone you care for. So, things like enjoying your students' company or caring for their future or understanding their teenage dramas and help them through them, had been strictly forbidden – for the sake of his own sanity. Dumbledore had always said it was a wrong resolution and that Severus had been missing the true joy of teaching, but Severus had found it highly satisfying.

Although from time to time, especially around Gryffindors, who brought up the worst in him – or the best according to some (Gryffindor) people – and, even more especially, around Harry Potter, he wasn't able to prevent his own volition from interfering with his dominant logic, and he recently found himself being nicer and encouraging when Harry was struggling with some concept or other.

The fact is that neither had been willing to damage the companionable relationship they were creating and, while Harry was used to act impulsively and don't think about the consequences of his actions, Severus wasn't.

Even if the Potions Master was unable to deny his attraction for the young man, he was more than ready to deny having more affectionate feelings for his student – as he repeated countless times to his meddling employer; regardless to say, Minerva just gave him a look and demanded caution with Harry's feelings. It had been confusing to say the least.

After a while, boldness came and the atmosphere around them became friendlier. The polite greetings came with broad grins, the questions and the requests for clarification came with teasing comments and slight touches; the sarcastic remarks and critiques were spoken in a lighter tone and the compliments were much more personal and sincere.

Harry found himself trying harder and harder to please the teacher's high standards and he knew – from the slightly impressed stares he was getting – that he had been successful. Good, Harry wanted to please him.

By the end of the second week, they started to take a break halfway through the period—

"Sir?" Harry called, while he took a sip of his tea. He was sitting on his desk during his break, fidgeting with a categorized group of plants that rested on top of his work desk for his Herbology assignment. "How did you return to Hogwarts?"

Snape appeared from his private office – where he had been getting a book for Harry – and walked into the classroom. Harry considered his teacher. He moved slowly, helped by the onyx cane, black robes billowing around his legs. Snape was, by WizardingWizarding standards, a young man, but he moved with the weight of an age he didn't possess. Harry felt his heart constrict at the sight of Snape so physically vulnerable – it made him seem in need of protection—

"I beg your pardon, Mr. Potter?"

Of course, he just had to open his – _sweet, lustful and so very cruel_ – mouth to shatter any illusions of needing a hero.

"I was wondering how you returned to Hogwarts," Harry repeated. "You know, you were Headmaster and you left the school in the middle of a term. That counts as betrayal for Hogwarts. How did you get the castle to take you back?" Snape considered Harry's question, satisfied at Harry's perception, while he moved towards the bookshelf in the back of the room, apparently having misplaced the intended book – no doubt the lost object was irritating the teacher beyond words; Harry found that highly endearing.

"The castle recognised the need," Snape replied concisely, while leaning on his cane and searching for a book. "It knew I meant no harm." Harry nodded in understanding, even though Snape could not see.

"Then why didn't you return to the Headmaster position?" Snape stilled immediately and tensed. He kept his back turned. Harry focussed his entire attention on the teacher.

"The Headmaster has a duty towards the school first," he explained. "It's his priority. If I were to have other—responsibilities, I could not keep the position." Harry's stomach twisted; suddenly, he got much more interested in the conversation.

"What else could you possibly want?"

'_A lover, family, a home – without cold walls and hundreds of children . . . perhaps one or even two would suffice—'_ Severus interrupted his thoughts abruptly, horrified by his own sappiness. He turned around to face Harry.

"Finish you task, Mr. Potter."

"Yes, sir."

"Sir?"

"Good Lord, Mr. Potter, are you unable to work in silence?"

"Actually, I can't understand this," Harry explained and shook his book in front of Snape's face. "I studied a lot of books about Dark Arts and this one doesn't seem to be that goo—"

"I shall remind you, Mr. Potter, that NEWTs are for students, not for Aurors," Snape drawled, not lifting his eyes from the schemes he was working on – he was preparing his classes at his desk. "Even though I would not need to teach you such things since they are not in the syllabus," he looked up, "I expect to review them with you before the end of our sessions."

Harry didn't think he caught half of that, so mesmerized he was by the way Snape's thin lips moved gracefully and how his reading glasses slid down his hooked nose.

"Are you going to the Minister's reception on May, 2nd?" Harry blurted out. Snape blinked in surprise at the sudden change of subject. He recovered rather fast.

"No, I'm afraid that I do not wish to waste my time on such frivolous activities," the teacher answered, returning to his task. "I nurtured a foul enough reputation for people not to be surprised with my inconsiderate ways." He looked at Harry again and, this time, his mouth was twitching upwards, even though just seconds ago he had seemed somehow—bitter and sad. "I expect you haven't such luck, am I wrong?"

Harry blushed bashfully, incredibly pleased that Snape was showing some kind of interest in him.

"Yes, I have no choice but to attend," the younger man admitted timidly, though who he would take with him was still a mystery. He looked at Snape. At least the man understood the deficits of bachelorhood. Did he? Maybe he had a girlfriend. Harry cringed at the incompatibility of that innocent word paired up with the shadowy man in front of him. "Do you have someone you care for?" he blurted out, following his own train of thought.

Since he started to teach Harry – and probably considering the last ten years, too – Snape was thrown off balance for the second time. His expression was soon replaced by one of suspicious wariness. Even though he had decided to live his life in the fullest, he couldn't find anyone who was good enough for him.

"I believe I told you to complete the exercise of page 3, whether you agree with it or not," Severus said instead. Harry winced almost imperceptibly. Snape was right. It was not Harry's business and Harry had better remind himself of that or else he would find himself with a heart's trouble yet again.

"Yes, sir."

"Sir?" Harry was sitting on top of his desk again, having a latte and nipping on a toast with honey, while Snape graded papers. The man gave him a long-suffering sigh.

"Mr. Potter, are you aware that you must the only person in this school bold enough to interrupt my work?"

"I am," Harry replied cheekily. "I think it's one of my best qualities: the courage to defy wild beasts." Severus fought back a smile and he looked up with his eyes glinting in amusement.

"Is it? I must warn each wild beast I see on the grounds, then," he replied smoothly. "Do you happen to know the whereabouts of Professor Lupin?" Harry laughed happily and then looked down, as if ashamed of his gleeful reaction. Severus envied Harry's candour. "You are yet to tell why you saw fit to disturb me – with a mouth full of food I might add." Harry blushed bashfully.

"How did that happen?" Harry asked pointing at Snape's damaged leg. The teacher's face darkened.

"I hurt myself when I fled from the castle," Snape began. "The potions I was taking to restore the damaged muscles lost their effect when Nagini's poison interacted with them; my blood thickened and the muscles died. The Healers were unable to re-grow them by the time I woke up." Harry nodded soberly.

"I'm sorry," he said.

"So I am," was the reply. Harry's guilt was crushing; he thought about telling Snape he had been with him during his unconsciousness, but he thought better of it. The younger man cleared his throat and glanced at the cane.

"It's very pretty," Harry started, pointing at the cane. "I like the phoenix . . . very appropriate for a man who came back from death. You've always risen from the ashes, huh?"

Severus lost his words at the overwhelming connotations of that single sentence. Yes, since he was a child, he had no other option than to 'rise from the ashes'; it was that or give up and Severus Snape did not give up for as long as he breathed.

From Snape's shocked expression, Harry knew he had hit a nerve, though it hadn't been his intention; having someone make any elations from all his hardships and correctly interpret his misplaced severity struck the teacher to silence. Harry found out that an overwhelmed Snape was a very attractive one.

That time, Severus had no way out of the conversation but to outright tell Harry to mind his own damn business.

"Yes, sir."

Unsurprisingly – according to McGonagall, at least – Harry became very pleased with the arrangement. He even found himself looking forward to his classes with Snape and giving his best at it.

It wasn't as if Harry needed to support himself – his inheritances from his parents and Sirius and his three years playing as Seeker for the Puddlemore United had granted him a significant fortune – but Harry hated with a passion the idea of doing nothing for the Wizarding world. He had learned such great things about the complexity of Ancient Magic that he longed to deepen his knowledge. Wandlore was what intrigued him the most, for it studied the very own nature of magic. Besides, what kind of example would he give James if he didn't have any ambitions?

Since not everything could be peaches and roses, Hermione was concerned at the importance Harry put in Snape's recognition.

"_I'm really worried, Harry,"_ Hermione had intervened once more. Harry had to wonder how many times she had said that sentence to him over the years. _"You always had self-esteem issues."_ He had bristled in indignation at this point. _"And you chose Professor Snape because of all the history you share with each other, but lately it's like you don't believe you've done anything right, unless he tells you so. You work so hard to please him and it's never sufficient."_ She had paused for a while and appeared reluctant in continuing her speech. _"I don't think I should be saying this, but I'm really concerned, for both you and James . . . I think you are obsessed with Professor Snape."_

Harry had tried to assure her the best he could, but – sad as it was – since Ron's death Hermione had stopped believing in love and that was not Harry's problem. Although he didn't trust Snape enough to confess to him how important he was to Harry, it didn't mean Harry had to give up the solace he found in their tentative friendship.

"_You are in love with an illusion, Harry. You've barely seen him for the past three years and I'm through with trying to put some sense in your head!"_ Hermione had shouted at him at last.

They hadn't spoken since then. Harry hadn't cared and he had carried on with his routine.

- xXxXx -

As it was common these days, Harry's luck was a bitch. It was as if it was compensating for Harry's earlier years. First, the whole issue with Ginny, then the only private tutor McGonagall could find was Snape . . . well, when one thought about it like that perhaps his luck hadn't deserted him after all―

Although, he could see no possible positive outcome for the fact that Mrs. Weasley had broken her leg.

Of course, as if that wasn't enough, Mrs. Weasley couldn't be healed magically and re-growing her bones would be very painful in her age . . . She couldn't be healed magically, because the lady was careless enough to cast an anti-healing charm on herself while doing it to her gnomes. You see, Molly had broken her leg while _de_-gnome-_ing_ her garden on a Friday in the middle of April; she had thought she would be able to do such task like the old days and ended up falling on her twisted knee.

Arthur had been the one to find her, thankfully only a few minutes later, in that same position. Harry, Hermione, Arthur and George could not believe it. It didn't sound true; they had laughed at the ridiculous of the scene – after making sure that the matriarch was okay, of course.

James had slept through it all, but then, she wouldn't be able to take care of him anymore.

Harry was worried about where he would find someone to take care of James during his private lessons with Snape – the idea of letting him with a stranger twisted his stomach into knots. Molly's fall left them all with a major problem.

After much careful consideration, Harry decided that it was for the best if he postponed his NEWTs.

- xXxXx -

Harry stood in the hall outside Snape's private office – where the Marauder Map told him the man would be – trying to gather his wits in order to inform Snape he would be giving up his NEWTs. Yes, because 'postpone' did not existe in Snape's dictionary. He knocked.

"Enter," came the voice from inside.

Harry's stomach tightened in anticipation. Quietly, he stepped inside and took a look at his surroundings. Piles of books decorated the bookshelves and odd looking instruments could be seen in an open drawer of a tallboy; maps, charts, tables, potion schemes and notes were hanging everywhere and there were three boiling caldrons on a working table to the left.

Severus saw the young man enter and his stomach hopped in delight. It was an unexpected visit – and Severus loathed those – but seeing Harry made his humour improve tenfold. Harry was assessing his office. Snape smiled; he always found Harry's shameless curiosity to be flattering.

Harry turned his gaze to Snape and saw him sitting behind his desk, whatever he had been doing abandoned on the desk top, fingers steepled in front of him and his chin resting on them. The man was watching him with an amused smirk on his face. Harry blushed under the other's gaze.

"What is that?" Harry asked, gesturing to the boiling potions – trying to buy himself some time. Snape glanced momentarily to the cauldrons and then back at Harry.

"A potion," he stated. Harry gave him a look and Snape's mouth twitched upwards. Harry found himself shaking his head in amused disapproval. Snape elaborated, "I'm a researcher, Mr. Potter." Harry found that truly amazing.

"You publish your work?" he asked.

"My work is personal," Snape replied, "though when I discover something truly meaningful I write to a scientific journal, which has had no issue doing business with me even during my darkest years." Harry nodded in understanding, but then his mind brought him back to the pressing issue that had taken him there and his expression darkened. Severus saw the parade of emotions written on Harry's face and he said, "Is there a reason as to why you decided to deign my person with your presence on a weekend, Mr. Potter?"

"You could call me Harry, you know?" Severus chose not to answer and instead treaded to safer grounds.

"Why do I get the feeling that you are stalling, Mr. Potter?" he asked silkily. "Perhaps there is something in our arrangement you wish to change?" Harry took a deep breath; he had made his decision, but for some reason, the thought of telling Snape made him hesitate.

"I think I may sit out this year's NEWTs," Harry explained in a rush. Snape's eyes darkened and his expression became disdainfully cold. Harry elaborated quickly, "Something came up and this is becoming impossible to do—I couldn't find any other solution—I'm really sorry and—"

"So you give up?" Snape drawled coldly and, even though his tone was levelled and held no open hostility, involuntarily, Harry flinched; the deep disappointment he unmistakably heard made him feel small and despicable.

Severus wondered why it bothered him so much having Harry give up their lessons, though he was not surprised; he had been expecting it since he knew he would be tutoring Harry.

It was very out-of-character for Harry to be giving something up; Severus knew he truly wished to learn more about wandlore and Mr. Ollivander was one of the most capable wizards of their time regarding the subject, but the fact was that Harry was running; he was running from himself, from the memories of the war, from moving on, because moving on would mean to forget what he had before.

Severus knew what it felt like to be running from oneself; the blame, the guilt and the distinct feeling that one was not good enough for what one was expected to do. While Severus had freed himself from auto-commiseration, Harry was burying himself in it.

"I'm really sorry for your time—" Harry began forcefully.

"Forget about my time!" Snape shouted, rising up in his full height; he breathed in deeply when he realised he had lost control. Harry was looking at him with shocked wide-eyes. He started again, this time calmer, "If one were to disregard the issues concerning my person, one would remain only with your own cowardice. Do not tell me this is about some appointment that came up in your unbelievably busy social life, because it is not."

That stirred a reaction from Harry. How dare Snape make judgements about Harry's hardships? A tiny voice in his head – very similar to Ron's – quietly reminded him that he was not the only person in this world who had suffered the loss of loved ones. Who was Harry to judge Snape, as well?

"You don't know—"

"Do you wish to hear what I certainly know?" Snape drawled heavily, interrupting Harry. "You lived these past three years ignoring the crying need to advance with your existence; you buried yourself in that goddamned sport and put a halt on your life. No lovers, no dates, no public appearances with your little friends, no demanding occupation," the teacher enumerated, holding up four graceful fingers. "Frederic and Ronald Weasley are _dead_. I don't see why _you_ should stop living—"

"That's because you're a cold-hearted bastard who doesn't give a shit about anyone other than himself!" Snape's eyes narrowed dangerously. "Other than your precious Lily, no one is worth your time—"

If the circumstances had been any other, Severus would have laughed at the poor attempt to infuriate him and wondered why Harry found that mentioning Lily would make him mad. Then, the content of the accusation reached his comprehension.

"Do you want to end up like that?" he asked angrily, limping through the room vigorously until he was standing right in front of Harry; the young man looked up, eyes fiery, willing to _fight_ for Snape's understanding – it was something Severus hadn't seen since Harry's teenage years and it pleased him to no end that he was still able to stir a reaction from Harry. "Alone, bitter, unable to connect? If you believe you're safer that way, think again, because I assure you, you are not. You cannot free yourself from the person who can hurt you the most—" He took a breath. "—Because you cannot be free from _yourself_."

Harry winced and looked away, overwhelmed by the truth in those words They touched him, and his eyes burned with unshed tears. He turned away, hiding them from Snape.

"I'm not you," he retorted meekly.

"Do not speak lowly of me, when you are treading the same path," Snape advised him, acrimoniously, "because one day you may find yourself waking up from the dead, all alone in a hospital room." Snape's tone became defeated and despaired, and it touched Harry deeper than the accusations against him. Suddenly, he wanted to stay, he wanted to find a way, to fight for what he wanted.

"Professor—"

"Leave." Snape turned his back to Harry. There was no margin for argument.

- xXxXx -

When the young man's presence could no longer be felt in the room, Severus slumped against the desk, clutching tightly to his cane, breathing heavily to calm himself down. This had not been about Harry at all. It never was.

Harry inadvertently became Severus last chance to make peace with the wrongs in his life and now it had become so much more. Harry had become someone Severus admired; sort of a symbol that even a broken soul could be mended: the mindless courage, the powerful heart, the uncultivated politeness, Harry's natural _righteousness_ were something a shadowy Slytherin could only dream of.

In that moment, it became very important to support Harry in his grief – and make sure the Golden Boy would be put back together at last.

Severus fastened his teaching robes and exited the room, throwing the door closed loudly—

Hearing Snape's gloomy tone, Harry's heart fell to his feet. However, he had made his decision and he would live with it. Decidedly, he turned around and left the room, closing the door gently behind him, very much aware of how well he dealt with grief, when he fled from contentment at every turn. Harry strode down the halls, aiming for the Headmistress Office, intending on leaving Hogwarts once and for all.

One could say that he was finally letting go of his safety net and adventuring himself into the world – but the one who would indeed have said it was the one Harry was leaving behind.

Harry crossed the Gargoyle twenty minutes later and was welcomed by a nice-smelling blue bundle of blankets – in the arms of Hermione.

Harry smiled fondly at the tiny creature resting in the middle of the fluffy coverlet. James Potter was a raven-haired seven-month-old baby, with gigantic almond green eyes and a round button nose. It was undeniable whose parentage the boy had. James giggled and reached for his father. Harry picked him up and patted the baby's chest with his hand. James clutched to his papa's finger and snuggled closer to his chest.

"Hello, little man, did you have a nice evening? Did you?" Harry cooed and tickled him with his finger.

Harry shifted his gaze to the young Transfiguration teacher and gave her a dry glance. She returned the gaze firmly. Neither would apologise, because neither believed to be wrong about last month's fight; what they both believed in was that family was too important to be lost over petty fights. If Harry was hurt by Severus, Hermione would be there nonetheless and, if Hermione was wrong, Harry would still wish her presence in his life.

Hermione might have been the one to take the first step, but it might as well have been Harry. "Mrs. Weasley told me you would be here, so I thought we could go home together," Hermione said at last. Harry gave her an understanding smile.

"Thank you, Mione," he replied, taking a seat―

Severus strode to the Headmistress office, dodging gawking students and making Hufflepuffs faint with fear. He stood in front of the Gargoyle and glared his way through. The creature knew how to recognise an emergency – and possibly had a keen sense of self-preservation.

Severus was planning on putting some sense in the brat's head; he just hoped he was still in the castle.

The Potions Master didn't bother knocking; he just burst into the woman's office, and opened his mouth to make his complaint―

Hermione summoned a house-elf and requested tea for three – a tray full of sweet things appeared shortly after. Professor McGonagall nodded her appreciation and poured the black tea into three cups, magically handling them to each of her older students.

"Are you sure, Harry?" the Headmistress asked, regretfully.

"I have no choice, Professor; James is still too little to be left with anyone else." Harry replied, smiling daringly at her – willing away the annoying voice, which would not leave him alone, practically shouting how he was using his child as an excuse. "It's not like I need to give Mr. Ollivander my word this year, and, who knows, maybe it will be good to stay with James for a while."

"Perhaps, but I'm sorry you have to give this up," Hermione intervened. Harry shrugged. _'It's not like I have a choice now,'_ he thought.

"I did what I wanted for the past three years, that's why I'm in this situation," he joked, patting James' head, when the boy giggled helplessly at the small instrument he was playing with. McGonagall chuckled at the scene. "Not that I regret any of it, but—"

A child.

Harry was sitting in front of the fireplace, talking quietly to the Headmistress; Granger was burying her nose in other people's business. Albus was looking fondly at them. There was nothing very unusual in the picturesque scene – except for the baby boy sitting on Harry's lap.

The tiny person was absorbed in playing with one of Albus' little instruments; this one made hissing sounds from time to time, making the child giggle in delight; Harry smiled brilliantly at the baby every time he did so. There was no doubt that the boy was Harry's son. He had black hair – though it was much softer than his father's – and shining gigantic green eyes, with the same shape and the same small mouth.

Even though a myriad of questions should be making their way to Severus' mind, only one stood out. _'Where's the Weasellette?'_ Severus knew he had no right to wonder about Harry's personal life, but the question refused to leave his mind.

"Potter," he called warily―

"Potter." Their heads snapped at the deep – somewhat wary – voice that sounded from the doorway. Harry's head snapped around to face the Potions Master, fighting back the urge to shield his child, unsure about what to say.

"Severus, what―" Professor McGonagall began, while motioning to stand up.

"Do you think that poorly of me, Mr. Potter?" Severus interrupted, addressing the young man. Hermione open her mouth to intervene, but the older teacher held up his hand, successfully shutting her up. "Answer my question."

"No, of course not―"

"Yet you believe me to be ill-willed enough not to be informed about your parenting status," Severus replied smoothly. Harry open his mouth to reply, but nothing came to mind. "I assure you I would have had no issues if you needed to interrupt your tutoring in order to attend to your child, so perhaps—what's that?" Harry had muttered something and Severus hadn't been able to hear it.

"I said that no, you wouldn't," Harry told him forcefully, looking directly at him, his eyes determinate. "I want to postpone my NEWTs because I don't want to leave James with a stranger." Severus narrowed his eyes.

"Then you are correct," he said, "I would not understand." Harry's sense of victory was bittersweet.

"You seem to have very strong ideas about how I should live my life," Harry pointed out sullenly, not very subtle in his hinting at how Snape should be minding his own business instead.

"Yet you knew exactly what my complaints would be," Severus replied immediately. "Perhaps you are very much aware of what you are doing wrong." Harry harrumphed. Severus shifted his weight to his cane and continued, "And I must say that I'm surprised to see that that child has no red hair." This time, three heads snapped in his direction, all of them wearing surprised faces at his perspicacity.

"How do you know?" Harry asked, warily. Severus smirked.

"I have seen seven of those little straight noses," he explained, "all of them attached to a face framed by flaming red hair." Nobody knew how to answer to that. Finally, Professor McGonagall decided to intervene.

"What can I do for you, Severus?" she asked. The man turned his gaze to her.

"Actually, the issue is already unravelled." He turned to leave, the cane meeting the floor with a loud noise in the silence of the room. Severus looked over his shoulder when he reached the door. "I expect you to be on my office at six tomorrow, Mr. Potter―" Harry opened his mouth to protest, but Severus proceeded right away, "―and bring your spawn."

TBC

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**Thank you for reading.**


	3. One More Chance

**Rating: **M/NC-17

**Disclaimer:** This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoat Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended – _Standard disclaimer_.

**Warnings:** SS/HP; foul language and explicit sexual content between two males – slash; angst; spoilers; AR.

**Words:** ~10,000

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**Chapter 2: ****One More Chance**

By Dani-ko  
Beta'd by WithDemonWings

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Harry didn't quite know what he had been expecting, but it certainly hadn't been a cradle and a play area being set up by a tiny and wrinkled female house-elf. A house-elf named Izzy. The whole situation felt incredibly unreal to Harry and it filled him with apprehension.

When he first got to the dungeons, Harry had been plagued by a sense of déjà-vu, due to the same freezing dread of a month ago that he felt just at the thought of dealing with Snape. The difference was that at the moment he had James with him. He had almost laughed at his childish dramatics.

Snape did know how to make an impression. For a stupid moment, he had even been assaulted by the image of Snape using his son as a potion ingredient . . . When he thought about it though, he realised that the man didn't strike him – or anyone, really – as the understanding type of fellow, so he couldn't quite fathom why the teacher had allowed him to bring James.

James was sitting very still on Harry's arms as they stood in the middle of Snape's living room, looking around attentively, learning about this new space and what intrigued him the most was the shadowy man gazing at his Papa. As any child, James could tell the wistful mood that had settled around them, but soon he lost his interest – just like Snape, who plainly and deliberately ignored the boy's presence.

The Potions Master had guided them through a labyrinth of halls until they reached the statue of a Black Wyrm; Snape had tickled it on the side and the dark creature had started to laugh out loud and shake ungracefully, while Snape had muttered, "How unbecoming, honestly." Which was a very Snape-esque thing to say and it had made Harry smile in amusement.

The Wyrm had slid to the side revealing a wooden passage that led to a cosy circular living room.

Snape's rooms had two gigantic windows on the right side, on each side of the massive fireplace. The curtains were coloured in dark green and they framed the night sky – probably an illusion. Under the windows were two dressers, on top of which rested some decorative pieces. In front of the fireplace, there was a sofa and two loveseats perpendicularly set; all of them were in black leather, and there was a white duvet draped over one side of the first loveseat. On each side of the sofa was placed a coffee table with a candelabra and at least five books on top of each one.

On the left side, was placed a circular dinner table with a green cover and a vase of red flowers – and Harry was so sure that it was Izzy's doing; he could almost imagine Snape's exasperation at the house-elf's choice of colour. The front wall was completely covered with a bookcase so tall that a ladder rested on the side so that Snape could reach the higher shelves. Two doors could be seen next to the windows and Harry guessed they led to the bathroom and Snape's bedroom. The entire room was carpeted with a greenish tapestry. Books could be seen everywhere, piled randomly around the room.

'_So, the boy has come, hum?'_ Severus thought, not unpleased with the whole ordeal at all, as he watched Harry look around, exploring and assessing as it was his habit, with that lovely spark of curiosity shinning in his eyes. And, as usual, for a fleeting moment, Severus thought that perhaps Harry was actually interested in his persona. Severus denied – even though it was true – that he had been fidgeting all day, worrying about whether Harry would show up or not, but his faith had not been wasted, which left him quite satisfied.

That was when Izzy decide to make her presence impossible to ignore. James found her highly amusing with her high-pitched speech.

"Welcome, Harry Potter, sir," she said. "I is called Izzy and I is a nanny. I is taking care of lil' James. Master Severus explains to Izzy what Izzy must do and Izzy does it, Harry Potter, sir." It took a moment for Harry to process all that; he didn't think Izzy had taken a breath during her tirade.

"Well, nice to meet you, Izzy," the young man greeted, shifting James slightly in his arms. Really, he knew that house-elves were trustworthy creatures and he trusted a house-elf more than any human, but he didn't exactly know her, now did he? The Potions Master had been watching the parade of emotions on Harry's face, as the boy bit his lip and looked from his son towards Izzy, repeatedly; he decided to intervene.

"Perhaps we can arrange our class in order to allow you to check on your child from time to time," he said, somewhat annoyed at how accommodating he was becoming. For some reason, being nice – Severus' sense of nice, at least – to other people was far easier and less worrisome than being nice to Harry; this was more personal and intimate and Severus felt trapped by it. Harry's head snapped at him, regarding him hesitantly, if not a bit ashamed by his misplaced anxiety; he resumed chewing on his lip.

"I'm sorry―" he started, but Severus held up a hand, successfully interrupting him.

"Your distrust in others is easily explained and it certainly won't be solved in a day, so let's not bother ourselves with that right now." Harry nodded decidedly and allowed Izzy to take James from his arms.

The baby boy whined a bit and Severus could tell that Harry was almost regretting his decision, but Izzy was familiar with these situations and, after a while, James was more than happy to let himself be entertained. Deciding that his son was in good hands, Harry followed Snape out of the door and they headed towards the old Potions classroom.

"I can see the surprise written clearly on your face, Mr. Potter," Snape drawled all of a sudden mid-way through the hall, muffling the noise of his cane hitting the floor. Harry looked at him questioningly.

"Surprise?"

"What did you expect? You didn't think I would use your child as the core of my potions, now did you?" Snape asked in guise of explanation. Very predictably, Harry blushed brightly in embarrassment and looked down. Severus snorted – which sounded more like a chuckle, actually – and Harry flashed him a self-conscious grin.

"I think you just laughed," he pointed out. Snape waved his free hand dismissively as if that was not important, and resumed his lecture.

"I believe it's vital to assure you that I don't use children on my potions—" He paused dramatically. "—on Mondays." Harry laughed out loud. Severus got very satisfied with himself for being able to make Harry laugh so candidly, though his face kept its usual straightness. "On Mondays, I use puppies, Mr. Potter, you ought to know that," he explained gravely. Harry was still chuckling merrily.

"And when do you use kittens?" the younger man asked, eyes glinting with pleasure at their innocent bantering.

"Wednesdays," Harry laughed harder and Snape couldn't help but smile lightly – the hall was dark enough to hide it – at Harry's open delight. Caused by him. What an amazing thought.

-xXxXx-

The mood became awkward when the silence of the classroom finally hit them; neither had been willing to approach the subject of their recent discussion. It was just that neither believed anything good would come out of it, and both had said some pretty revealing things about themselves.

While Harry feared that Snape would hurt him in that special way only Snape knew how, making him feel vulnerable and unworthy, while Severus dreaded the fact that Harry might actually leave.

The Potions Master had grown to hate that thought with passion. It meant that he had a vulnerable spot and, as much as he chosen to begin a new life of opening himself to others – and if one was not familiar with his character, and most people weren't, one would never believe so – there were some things that still scared him; having someone emotionally close to him was one of those things.

However, what bothered Severus the most was that somewhere along the month they had been meeting each other regularly, Harry had made his way into his life and, now, Severus wasn't able to push him out. He wasn't even sure he wanted to.

It was only after a whole week that Harry finally decided to be the better man and apologise―

"Professor?" Harry called, interrupting his reading on Transfiguration Laws. Severus shook his head in exasperation.

"And so it begins," he sighed, though it didn't carry any annoyance. Harry glowered.

"I'm sorry, but this silence is so weird, we might as well chat―"

"Mr. Potter," Severus interrupted, "I do not chat, as you so vulgarly put it. I talk." Harry gave him a look; Severus mouth twitched upwards, in what Harry recognised as Severus' own way of smiling. "Now, I believe you wished to say something . . ." Harry looked down, fidgeting and worrying on his lip; even if Severus found the nervous gesture rather endearing, he knew that it meant that the obnoxious Gryffindor would not forgo addressing last Friday's argument. Which meant a likely embarrassing conversation for Severus.

The teacher schooled his features into blankness. He shouldn't have lost his temper – or, better yet, he shouldn't have asked Harry to return; he hated the word _ask_, it made him sound like some indecisive idiot. Though he supposed he didn't actually regretted it.

"I apologise for calling you a―hum." Harry hesitated. "You know, 'cold-hearted bastard'―"

"It's quite alright, Mr. Potter," Severus assured him, amused by Harry's current embarrassment when last week he had said those same words fiercely. He thought about leaving it at that, but his conscience was nagging him to make Harry smile again. He cleared his throat forcefully and pretended to focus his attentions on his schemes for a new potion. "I supposed I said a few ill-intended things as well."

"Is that an apology?" Harry asked suspiciously. Severus gave him a dry look.

"Yes," he replied, matter-of-factly; then, he returned his gaze at the papers in front of him, but he didn't register anything he was seeing so focussed he was on the conversation. "We both said things we ought not to have said, but truly, that is nothing new―"

"It doesn't make it right!" Harry exclaimed all of a sudden. Severus looked at him disapprovingly for being interrupted. The younger man didn't stop. Sighing, Severus leaned forward and rested his chin on his steepled fingers, looking at Harry attentively. "I know that when I was in school, I wasn't exactly easy, but neither were you. I was just―" He paused, searching for the right words. He had gained Severus's undivided attention. Harry proceeded, "―so _angry_. At everything. I'm sorry I was kind of childish―"

"Teenagers normally are." Severus said, hinting at Harry that their school days were not an issue – Severus had dealt with many teenage dramas after all – but Harry didn't stop talking.

"And you!" the young man accused suddenly. "You weren't exactly nice. I mean, I was not my father or Sirius and I still paid for them. You could at least apologise―"

"Words are useless, Mr. Potter." Severus stopped Harry's diatribe, but his voice held no malice, nor resentment. He had let all that behind him and suddenly it was very important to make Harry understand that. "People can lie so easily, but actions don't lie. I'm here teaching you, am I not? I allowed you to return, didn't I? That ought to speak louder than my impulsive words." Harry looked at him with wide eyes, surprised for seeing the man reveal so much about himself, but after a moment he got up and paced through the room, internally debating with himself about something; then, he turned his fiery gaze towards Severus.

"I misunderstood most of your actions, so no, I don't think they do." Severus blinked in surprise; he hadn't expected that to come forth in the conversation and much less he had expected Harry to win an argument against him. "I'm very sorry that I did. I judged you when it was not my place to judge―"

"Potter," Severus interrupted, more gently than he had ever thought he was able to. "You were a child with responsibilities much bigger than yourself. You did the best you could and nobody should make any considerations about it." Harry opened his mouth to speak, but Severus held up a hand. Although he hadn't answered Harry's apology directly, both of them understood what he meant. They had had their own problems and taking it out on each other had been far easier than deal with them alone.

"Just let me―" Harry tried to say, but Severus interrupted him.

"For now, please proceed with your study."

Of course that after that Severus hadn't had a moment of rest.

Every single break, Harry would jog towards Severus' private quarters and check on his son; he would return minutes later and demand Severus' attention. The first time it happened, Harry had approached his desk and shyly asked "Can we please talk for a bit?" It had been the most charming thing Severus had seen in a long time, and so he had had no choice but to acquiesce.

So far, their _chats_ had been oddly enlightening―

"_Sir?" came_ _the hesitant voice from the classroom._

_Severus placed his steel spoon beside his cauldron and waited for Harry to come into his office, but the young man never did. By now, Severus knew that this meant__ that Harry wanted to chat. He looked thoughtfully at the experimental potion he was brewing and decided that it could wait; because it was very important for it to be brewed in a certain time-line, Severus considered the task useless and just vanished it. Then, he limped back into the classroom._

"_Have you got any questions, Mr. Potter?" he drawled, even though he already knew the question._

"_No, I'm fine," Harry said, cleaning up his work table, where he had been studying wordless spells – which were a very interesting way of learning about the essence of magical practise and therefore important for wandlore notions – and shifted until he sat on the desk top, facing Severus. The older man quirked a questioning eyebrow._

"_Shall I assume you want to converse for a bit?" he asked. Harry blushed, but didn't turn his gaze away and nodded. Lately, Harry had been getting more and more assertive and confident –_ _much like he was when he was a teenager – and Severus did so enjoy seeing the fierceness back into those wonderful eyes. "Very well, what can I tell you this time?"_

"_It's about my mother," Harry explained__; he must have noticed how Severus tensed at mention of Lily Evans, because he elaborated right away, "You can tell me to bugger off―"_

"_Lang__uage, Mr. Potter," Severus admonished, even though it was a half-hearted objection. Harry ignored him._

"_As I was saying, you can__ tell me to bugger off and I'll drop the subject―" He did sound honest. "―it's just that I've been dying to talk to you about her." Harry's eyes acquired a dreamy glint and Severus felt a jolt of sympathy at the fact that Harry never met the wonderful person that was his mother. "I know her through Sirius and Remus' eyes, but you knew her better, right?" Severus nodded and, swiftly moved to sit at the desk next to Harry's. The young man relaxed visibly at Severus' casualness._

"_Lily was a vibrant, caring girl that didn't give a flying sod about what anyone thought of her."_ _Severus hesitated, as if he had said something he shouldn't. "Which was a good thing considering that she had_ me _as a friend,"__ he completed, with a discreet, self-deprecating smile, turning his gaze at the blackboard as if seeing something Harry couldn't. "I didn't have many friends, but she was without a doubt the best friend anyone could ask for, like a true Gryffindor." Harry smiled gently and hugged his knees, placing his legs on top of the table, reading himself for the story. Severus didn't even protest. "I was weak at the time and let myself be influenced by some less honourable people―"_

"_Mulciber and Nott." Harry stated. Severus nodded, sparing him a quick glance, mildly surprised that Harry remembered the details of his memories._

"_Yes," he agreed, "though I shouldn't have. It destroyed my life," t__he older man confessed, way past the point where he would care for the fact he was sharing his most intimate self with another person. It was Harry, so he thought it would be alright._ _Even if all of what he said could be used to tear him apart._ _Severus could have been great, as smart and talented as he was, but he lost himself. Harry understood that and felt sorry for him._

"_I'm sorry." Severus nodded in appreciation, but didn't look at Harry. He didn't want pity; he loathed the thought of wallowing in self-commiseration._

"_I'm not. It was my choice and I take full responsibility for it," he replied, matter-of-factly. Harry sighed._

"_I admire that," the young man said, earnestly. Severus smirked._

"_You would, you are a Gryffindor." Both smiled knowingly__ at that – Severus in his own disguised way. Then, he sobered. "She made people around her feel good about themselves. I deeply regret that I was shunned out of her life―"_

"_Did you love her?" Harry asked, because – truthfully – that__ was what he had wanted to know all along, although he was yet to admit it,_ _even to himself._

"_I did," Severus said and his face softened tenderly. Harry thought it was a beautiful sight – not that Severus cold ever be beautiful – and resignedly accepted that he wouldn't be the one to cause such an expression. He __reasoned that, in the end, he could relate to Severus' unrequited love. In that moment, Severus looked at Harry, and was surprised to see a sad smile on the boy's face; he didn't quite know what to make of that._

"_It must've have hurt you a lot that she chose my fat__her," Harry commented, at last. Severus returned his attention to the blackboard._

"_It did, but I would have accepted him eventually―"_

"_You would have accepted that the woman you loved was with another man?" Harry asked, surprised. He had always tho__ught Severus was one to bear a grudge; hell, he had dozens of lost House points as evidence._ _Severus gave him a calculating look._

"_If I truly loved her, and I did, I would have accepted anyone she chose," the teacher asserted. Harry looked down and nodded, ashamed by some reason and with the distinct feeling that he had angered Severus somehow. Severus tilted his head to the side, as if measuring Harry. "I have the impression you misunderstood the nature of our relationship." Harry's head snapped at the__ other man. Severus pinched his lips and continued, "I assure you it was purely platonic―"_

"_Yeah, right," Harry snorted. Severus quirked an eyebrow._

"_I believe that the fact you're unable to believe __that a woman and a man can be friends like that tells me a lot about your relationship with Miss Granger." Harry open his mouth to protest, but then closed it because he didn't know what to say. "Don't you want her happiness? Wouldn't you do whatever it took to make her forgive a mistake you made? Wouldn't you miss her even after twenty-years?"_

_Harry didn't have to imagine; he knew for sure that no matter how much time it passed, he would always miss Ron and Fred. He could easily see himself doing everything for Hermion__e, just like Severus would have done everything for Lily. He felt sympathy and nostalgia shot through him and they were almost overwhelming, if a thought hadn't made its way into Harry's mind._

"_My Patronus is not an owl, a raven, an otter or whatever," he pointed out. Severus smiled – a full bloomed smile, albeit bitter._

"_I shall point out that you also didn't kill Miss Granger." That was when Harry understood that Severus was a haunted man; he was haunted by guilt and shame and by the memory of his wrong deeds. "For me, she meant absolution."_ _Harry felt his throat constrict and his eyes burn with unshed tears; he wanted to comfort Severus very much. He buried his face in his knees._

"_I'm sorry," was his muffled reply. Severus cleared his throat to disperse the mood._

"_Don't let it bother you. Bygones should be bygones," he said. Harry looked up and opened his mouth hesitantly. Severus gave him a lopsided smirk. "And yes, you may ask me more things, if you so wish." Harry grinned._

"_Why do you think she fell in love with him?" he asked, meaning his parents. Severus tensed, but he let a glint of mischievousness play on his eyes._

"_Since our fifth year, your father had been asking Lily to go out with him," he explained. "I guess he just annoyed her into agreeing." At Harry's horrified expression, Severus was unable to help chuckling whole-heartedly, __placing his hand in front of his mouth to hide it. "I'm just teasing you, you silly boy." Harry glared at him, but it was more an exasperated scowl than anything else._

"_It's __not funny," Harry protested. "I actually thought that after I saw him in your memories." Severus' expression became one of shocked surprise._

"_That's absurd―"_

"_I know it is," Harry interrupted. "I know that my parents were good people, but seeing hi__m doing that . . ." Harry let the rest of the statement hang in the air; he shrugged. "I would never do that―I never did." Severus listened carefully, and then sighed resignedly._

"_I can't believe I'm saying this," he commented __under his breath, and looked straight at Harry. "Your father was a good person, Harry. I assure you that everything he did to me was more than avenged and in a not so inoffensive fashion." Harry nodded and gave Severus a brave smile._

"_I don't understand how people can hate like that," he said. Severus' face softened and something – very close to admiration – flicked across his eyes, but it was gone too soon for Harry to understand what it was._

"_Of course you can't. That's why you defeated the Dark Lord."_

Their conversations had also been very satisfying.

It was like their argument made things easier and more personal between them. Harry guessed it had shown him how he would feel if he lost this new friendship – because it was at least _friendship_, whatever more it could be – and he wanted to give his best for that not to happen. Of course, the young man had no way to know that the other side felt the same way.

Yes, Severus was a smart man. Smart enough to know that he was in deep trouble for allowing Harry to get so close. Severus had talked himself out of his wayward emotions and abolished his chances of getting hurt along the way. The issue was that Harry _kept_ on coming back, on talking, on making Severus feel like his company was indeed wished for. It could be so easy to indulge himself – but so hazardous if things went wrong.

There were times in which Harry thought it was a monologue, in which he talked and Severus pretended to listen, but then he noticed that Severus always gave him his full attention and when the teacher indeed said something, it was enough to sweep Harry off his feet with wonder.

-xXxXx-

One day, Severus followed Harry into his quarters – when the young man went to check on James – in order to retrieve some book. He soon forgot what had brought him there when he saw Harry playing happily with his child on the floor in front of the fireplace.

The baby's gleeful reactions were getting on Severus' nerves by reminding him exactly how many years of his life he had wasted. He had known, as soon as he invited Harry to bring James along, how he would feel seeing the wonderful picture Harry and James made together – thank heavens the boy didn't have red hair – but some not so small, yet definitely deep-buried, part of himself wished to be reminded, possibly in an attempt to make Severus do something about it.

"No, no, James, we can't bother him," Harry said, but he was speaking more for Severus than for James. Severus turned around and saw that the baby boy pointing at him and babbling incoherencies in his own language. Harry was looking at Severus with a mischievous smile, as he continued, "Of course, we can always hope that he chooses to join us."

Severus breath caught in his throat – Harry was looking at him expectantly. To any other person, it may mean that Harry was being the sweet young man that he was, and trying to make the older man feel comfortable around them both, but for Severus_―_well, let's just say that that image would fuel his fantasies for a long time after that. Unable to help himself, Severus moved towards the sofa and settled himself on it. He extended a hand to James and spoke to the boy for the first time.

"It's a pleasure, Mr. Potter," he drawled and blinked in surprised when the boy giggled at held onto his hand, in order to explore it. Apparently, long, graceful fingers were a very fascinating thing.

Regardless to say, neither of them returned to work that evening – and Harry paid dearly for it the following day – but instead sat by the fire, drinking tea and talking about nothing really. Moments later, James fell asleep on Harry's chest, but neither man moved and they continued their conversation about the Ministry's new measures against Dark crimes – which were borderline sadistic.

After that, every time Harry was brewing a sensitive potion or focussing on a difficult topic, it would be Severus to check on James on their break.

-xXxXx-

It was in the end of April that things changed yet again.

That day, they stayed in the classroom until later than usual, working on Harry's DADA curriculum. Dark Arts was a subject they were both passionate about – although it was not the evil kind of passion – and neither minded one bit to have someone, who was not scared to death of just speaking about it, and knocked three times on the wood every other moment, to discuss the topic with.

As such, it had been past nine o'clock when Harry finally announced that it was probably better if they stopped for the evening. He had been incredibly pleased to see Severus's cheeks turn to a lovely shade of red when he noticed that, not only he had forgot about the hours, but he had become rather enthusiastic during their conversation as well. Severus walked with Harry back to his quarters and, very predictably, they found James asleep in his crib, with Izzy sitting next to it, singing some foreign song.

"It's quite late, Mr. Potter," Severus said, gazing at his pocket watch. Harry smiled.

"Yeah, I kind of forgot myself," he explained apologetically, motioning to the crib. He picked James up and transfigured the baby's jacket into something warmer. The boy's face relaxed at the feeling of his father's magic. Severus shifted his gaze back to Harry.

"May I ask if you are still living in Grimmauld Place?" he questioned. Harry glanced briefly at him.

"No actually, I rented it. To an American family, I think." Severus quirked an eyebrow. "I'm living in Hogsmeade now. Why?"

"I was thinking that you could use the Floo instead of Apparating," the older man explained promptly. "There is no need for a tiring travel this late in the evening." Harry put James in his carrier and began to fasten his cloak around his middle.

"I can't; James is still too young," Harry reminded him. Severus hummed thoughtfully. He straightened his back and picked up his cloak, too.

"Then, I shall walk you home," he decided. Harry's head snapped at him, shock – and some awe, Severus noticed satisfied – written all over his face. "I take it that I surprised you."

"You don't have to do that." Severus continued to put his cloak on, as if Harry hadn't protested. "I am more than capable of walking home by myself, I've been doing it since March, so there's no problem whatsoever."

"It's a question of chivalry―"

"I really don't think―"

"Mr. Potter," Severus interrupted and his tone was so chastising that Harry blushed and shut up. "It's not that I believe you to be incompetent, especially regarding your child. _However_." He paused dramatically. "It's a question of safety. You may fall, you may lose your way_―_a number of things may happen, the worst of them you finding a rogue Death Eater, is that understood?" Harry nodded. "So, I shall walk you home."

Harry argued no more and together they walked through the grounds of the school and the road towards the village. James slept the entire way on his father's chest. Neither man felt the urge to break the silence, but then again, it was a peaceful silence in the serene night. The moon casted grey shadows on their path and the stars shone brightly.

Harry's house was one of the white cottages on the end of the main road. It had flowers on the front windows, a white fence limiting the small garden – which was a complete mess, with gigantic weeds all around and pitiable lonely flowers here and there – and a green door. Truly a classic. Severus reasoned that Harry would like ordinary things. They walked the small trail that crossed the garden.

"Thanks for walking with me," Harry said, nervously, while shifting James in his arms so that he could open the door. Severus waited patiently for Harry to walk in.

"Well, then, Mr. Potter, I shall―"

"Would you like to come in for a while, maybe for drink or something?" Harry blurted out, rudely interrupting his elders, Severus thought.

Then, the content of the question caught with his mind. Severus lost his words and stared at the other. Harry was blushing and looking down as if he had said something that he shouldn't. Severus had to agree with that; he must remind the brat that such suggestive invitations should not be ensued unless one had the intention of carrying on with the suggestion . . . The problem was that Severus _wanted_ to stay and come in.

He didn't want to return to his empty quarters. Two months ago, that wouldn't have been an issue, Severus had made peace with his own loneliness, but having the recent subject of his desires moving around in his private space changed his resolutions, and now Severus always felt that something was missing when he was alone.

"Yes, that would be most acceptable," he found himself answering. Harry looked up, blushing and his green eyes shining in wonder, with a baby resting peacefully against his chest. Severus breath caught in his throat at such breathtaking sight. What else could a man wished for in this life?

Harry grinned and stepped aside to allow his teacher to come in. The hall was wide and led to the living room through an arcade. There was a small table with a candelabrum on top – which Harry lit up with his wand – and a picture featuring Harry, James, Granger and three Weasleys above it. The rug was red and light brown and extended itself through all the division.

Harry opened the cupboard door on the left, chucked his boots in and took out two ridiculous lion slippers. He grinned impishly at Severus apprehensively quirked eyebrow.

"I'll just put James to bed and then I'll make us something to eat, okay?"

"Please, take your time," Severus replied politely. Harry blushed again and his eyes lit up. He shouldn't be so surprised. When one accepted another's invitation, one was polite to his host.

"Yes, make yourself at home . . ." Harry offered distractedly, scanning his home. "I'm sure you can see where everything is―"

"Of course, Mr. Potter, I do," the other interrupted hastily. "Do attend to your child." Harry blushed once _again_ and gathered his bearings long enough to do as he was told. Severus then took a moment to assess the big division that surrounded him.

It was as expected from Harry Potter. Gryffindor colours. All and all, it was a very cosy and elegant room. On the right side was the living room, with a comfortable sofa in front of the fireplace, and a loveseat placed perpendicularly to it; a small table beside an armchair and an upright piano completed the furniture. On the left side, there was a solid wooden table with six chairs around it. The floor was made of light brown wood, but there was a rug covering most of it. On the farthest left wall, a small walkway directed to the kitchen.

On the walls hung dozens of photographs, featuring the Golden Trio, the Weasley clan, Remus Lupin and Sirius Black, one or two of Ginevra Weasley, some of Harry's Quidditch Team and his England Team, others of Harry's Auror friends in their uniforms, a very odd one of Draco Malfoy and Harry playing chess, and many more of James and the deceased Potters. Severus wondered whether Harry would hang up one of him, if given the chance.

"Is there anything out of place?" said a familiar voice from the doorway opposite of the one they used to get in. Severus was startled from his thoughts and turned around, coming to face a smiling Harry who was heading towards the kitchen. "Can I get you something to drink?"

Even though Harry appeared like the controlled and mature adult that he was, he had already had his panic attack in James' room. Harry really did want to please Severus and spend some more time with him. He wondered if he could get Severus to visit him again – and frequently, if possible. That thought alone made him blush and look around in fear of getting caught thinking forbidden thoughts – if someone could read a person's mind from an entirely different room, it would be Severus Snape.

"Perhaps some tea?" Severus suggested, following Harry into the bright kitchen. "You have quite a collection of photographs," he stated.

"Yes, I like photographs," Harry replied, moving at ease around the room, retrieving some things from his pantry. He considered Severus' comment. Indeed, photographs had been the only thing he could remember his parents by for a long time. He stopped and stood up from the floor, where he had kneeled looking for something in a cabinet. "I'm making toasts and I have some cookies from Mrs. Weasley," Harry informed. "Is that okay?"

Severus considered this for a moment; he came to the conclusion that he didn't care, he was just here to enjoy the company – and such admission was a _very_ important one to make, because it defined his course of action regarding Harry's potential attentions. If there would be any. He hoped he wasn't misunderstanding Harry's longing glances. His _gaydar_ had been long out of use and, besides, he couldn't quite tell what Harry's seduction was.

"Perfectly acceptable." Harry appeared slightly put out at his lack of enthusiasm. Severus almost chuckled. The boy was an open book: he was thinking that Severus accepted his invitation just to indulge him. "Do you want my help, Mr. Potter? I'm willing to follow your instructions." Predictably, the boy's face lit up like a Christmas tree. Severus hummed in satisfaction and moved closer to Harry.

"I thought we could eat in the living room, okay?" Severus nodded and, while Harry prepared the food, he set the small tea table. Harry appeared moments later, carrying a tray with toasts, honey, and some butter cookies with chocolate cover. They sat down comfortably on the sofa and Harry served them both. Severus reclined against the sofa comfortably with the teacup in his hands and crossed his legs in front of him.

"Is it good?" Harry had asked quietly when they began to eat. By the corner of his eyes, Severus saw Harry prop his feet on the sofa and shift until he was facing Severus. Such a blunt sign of attention and interest almost made Severus lose his aloofness.

"Indeed, Mr. Potter, it is," Severus replied, at last. Harry grinned. "I must thank you for the invitation. I confess I would never be able to picture you in a quite so homely character."

"If you're talking about cooking and such, I learned the hard way," Harry replied and his eyes glinted with amusement. Severus found it lovely.

"Oh?" he prompted, even though he hadn't been referring to anything specifically.

"Yes, during my first year as an international Seeker," Harry explained. "Even overlooking the fact that I was muffling the war damages by getting high on adrenaline during each game―" '_Ouch!'_ Severus thought, remembering what he had said not even a month ago. "―not only the demands were higher than I expected, but I also had to move out from the Burrow, which meant washing, cleaning and cooking for myself."

"Yes, a coddled brat living alone, I can imagine the issue," Severus taunted. Harry gave him a look.

"I was never coddled," Harry replied and he couldn't help the bitterness that laced though his words. His resentment was not directed at his teacher, but at himself and his life.

"Yes, Mr. Potter, I am aware," Severus conceded. "Although it's undeniable how lucky you were, at such a tender age, you did a wonderful job rising up to the challenges laid on your way."

Harry opened his mouth to continue, but then he processed what Severus had said, and his breath caught in his throat; for a moment he was sure he had heard wrong. Severus' approval was something he had always desired; it was like he had just been forgiven for everyone he had let die, for everything he had done wrong, for all the mistakes he did and could've prevented if he had been stronger, faster or smarter.

Severus' didn't expect this reaction. Harry was looking down, almost burying his nose on his cup. Severus was sure he had seen tears welled in the boy's dashing eyes and a quivering lip. Had he unintentionally caused a flashback? Was Harry hurt from the war deeper than they had all thought? Did he still blame Severus for it? Such a young man should not have had the responsibilities or seen the things Harry did in the last year of war.

That was something Severus knew about. Suddenly, a crashing wave of sympathy and regret washed over him. He cleared his throat.

"Mr. Potter, would you care to share what is wrong?" he asked and surprised even himself with the soft deep tone his voice had acquired. Harry looked up surprised and his red-rimmed eyes shone with appreciation and admiration.

"You said you were proud of me," Harry stated, curling himself even more. Severus wondered why that meant so much for Harry.

"I didn't say that," Severus drawled, but the disappointment in Harry's eyes was so overwhelming that he elaborated immediately, "I was a privileged man to be able to fight by your side, but I have no right whatsoever to be proud of you or not. I am nobody to judge you."

Harry opened his mouth to answer, but he shut it right away. It confused the teacher. Harry looked down and the most appealing blush made its way to his cheeks. Suddenly, Severus got very interested in the whole subject.

"Actually, your opinion is very important to me," Harry said, still not looking up and fidgeting with his slippers' artificial mane. "I mean, you did your job perfectly for twenty-years_―_practically as many as I'm alive_―_so, being said by you that I was good it's_―_" He hesitated. "Well, it's flattering." That was unexpected. Severus glued his gaze to Harry, trying to tell if the young man was telling the true.

"I cannot say how much it pleases me that you see me as someone worthy of your admiration," Severus told Harry, as stoically as he could; it was true, either way. "You are a virtuous person, Harry." He decided that calling the young man by his given name was acceptable; Harry's mouth stretched in a smile, and he blushed brightly. "I am not," the teacher held simply.

Harry understood what he meant. It made him infinitely happy to hear such a thing, to be appreciated and admired and needed, and to be able to make Severus feel good at least in that simple way.

"Well, it's true," he confirmed quietly and looked up; Severus' gaze was still bored into him and their eyes locked. They looked at each other for a while, basking in the presence of the other, which they thought would probably not happen again. Finally, Harry looked away into the fireplace and took a sip of his tea.

"Well, Mr. Potter, you never told me how did you solve your issue with the house tasks," the teacher started, changing the subject to a lighter one. Harry grinned.

"Truthfully, it was awful. The most I could do was fry things up_―_I learned it with the Dursleys_―_and do the cleaning. Cooking was the real problem." Harry chuckled and Severus found himself smiling lightly. Harry was flushing in pleasure at being listened to. "As usual, Hermione's solution was to send me a book, a cooking book; Mrs. Weasley wanted to visit daily and Mr. Weasley just shrugged it off."

"It was the aftermath of the war," Severus reminded Harry; the young man nodded.

"Yes, so I decided to solve it myself and moved in with a teammate—" Harry interrupted himself abruptly. Severus quirked an eyebrow not-at-all amused.

"Yes?"

"That's it, I moved in with a teammate."

"You appear awfully embarrassed," Severus commented coldly.

"Yes, well—"

"He was your lover." It was not a question. Harry wondered how Severus Snape could sound so certain of things he had no way of knowing. It had always made Harry very nervous and, even as an adult, it still threw him off balance.

"I_―_I don't_―_that is—"

"You are gay." Harry sighed and sat himself upright; Severus didn't move. Harry motioned to move when the silence stretched; Severus stopped him with both hands on his shoulders and made him sit again. "I've made you uncomfortable," he stated again. Harry shrugged him off.

"Well, what did you expect?" Harry asked bitterly. The night had been going so well; now, Severus would be disgusted and maybe even make fun of him—

"I would be fairly hypocritical of me to make fun of you." Harry froze at the implications; then, he went limp beneath Severus' hands.

"Oh." Neither said anything for a long time. Harry refused to meet Severus' eyes and the man decided that the evening was lost. He motioned to get up, but a hand holding his wrist made him stop and sit back down.

Harry was looking straight at him, with pink cheeks and that longing gaze fixed upon him, prompting him to _act_. Suddenly, it was too much for Severus.

"Yes_―_hum_―_I believe I have taken enough of your time already," Severus tried to excuse himself, internally wincing at his lack of eloquence.

As if understanding his dilemma, Harry didn't complain and silently took the man to the door. Awkwardly, they bid each other goodnight and Harry closed the door.

- xXxXx -

Some days, even Severus Snape felt the urge to leave the solitude of the castle.

In those days, he opted to go to the village and have a drink in one of the pubs. He usually chose the Hog's Head Pub, and he usually wore a glamour so that he wouldn't be recognised – if there was something he resented Harry about it was the loss of his privacy.

This day was no different. It was a just a Friday in the end of April. It had nothing to do with Harry Potter. Just because the boy was gay and, therefore, in reach of Severus clutches, it didn't mean Severus was pinning for his company and trying to find a suitable replacement for the night. Just because he had felt his stomach flutter in happiness for the first time in twenty-seven years – but who was counting? – at Harry's candid, yet silent offer, it didn't meant he had to ignore his previous resolutions and throw himself at Harry's feet. Which he had felt like doing.

Severus sat down at a hidden table in the corner and sighed.

"Troubles of the heart, lad?" asked the new waitress Aberforth had hired. She had too many curves to be even remotely interesting to Severus, although it would appear that most of the men found her very desirable. Go figure.

"I shall hope not," he replied dryly and made his order. She left with a pout on her lips. Severus allowed himself to waver – reasoning that since nobody was there to testify his weakness, it would fine – and buried his face in his hands, trying to make sense of when his day had gone wrong – _Harry has such beautiful eyes_ – and to choose an appropriate course of action – _ask him to visit my private rooms_—

He grimaced at himself. He sounded like some old, perverted gay man. Severus sighed again and gathered his proper thoughts – ignoring the dirty ones.

Severus had grown to really care for Harry and that was it. Quite frankly, the boy had always been attractive, but seeing him fighting evil wizards with his heart as a shield and with that fierce determination that saved so many had been such a breathtaking sight. The affinity Severus felt for the boy had become so much more during these months of closeness. The waitress approached his table with his drink. _'Yes, bottled forgetfulness.'_

Severus was thoroughly enjoying his tumbler of scotch, when a rush of wind disturbed his warm comfort. He glanced at the door to glare at whoever bothered him. He blamed the scotch for the fact that it had taken him a couple of minutes to process the information and, then, his head snapped at the three young people again.

Granger. Weasley, a twin. And Harry Potter.

Of course, since the mighty gods hated him – always had – 'the three stooges' decided to occupy the table next to his. Harry sat down with his back to Severus, and Granger did the same in the seat in front of Harry's; the girl looked at Severus oddly and he wondered if she was recognising him in any way – maybe some mannerism or expression – but she soon turned her gaze away and focused on Harry, allowing Severus to relax.

With a sigh, the Potions Master realised that he could not very well leave now because _she_ would most certainly make the accurate connection and guess his identity. So, shamelessly – and very satisfied that he had found himself a suitable excuse – he decided to stay and listen to their conversation.

The three Gryffindors made their orders. Predictably, the Weasley flirted with the curvy girl. Harry was laying his head on the table and Granger was looking at him with a mix of sympathy and disapproval. Severus moved closer to listen better.

"Come on, mate, it gets better," George said when the waitress left them. "We know we can survive everything." George meant it as joke, but it was a poor one. Since Fred's death George's jokes had kept getting worse and worse. Harry admired him because he kept trying.

"Thanks a lot, George," Hermione drawled sarcastically. "You just compared Snape's dismissal with the war."

"Just look at him," George replied matter-of-factly, pointing at Harry. "I swear I will never understand what the bloody hell you see in the man, but," he shrugged, "whatever suits you." Harry's expression became dreamy.

"He's sexy, funny—"

"Mate, come on!"

"—has really beautiful hands and his _voice_!" Harry groaned and his head hit the table with a _thud_. "I feel awful," was his muffled response. The young man buried his face in his crossed arms.

"I'm really sorry, Harry," Hermione told him, caressing Harry's raven locks gently. "I know you want him, but as I've already told you-"

"What?" he asked bitterly. "It's not like I have any right to feel sad or anything." He sat up straight and flattened his hands against the table, "I can't lose what I never had." George smirked and took a swig of his liquor.

"I told you he was gay," he gloated. Harry narrowed his eyes at him.

"How did you know, anyway?" Hermione could not help the curious tone in her voice. "I would never be able to tell."

"I have a gaydar," the redhead announced proudly. "It helps sometimes; or else you could never tell what blokes are going to hex you for hitting on them." He looked at Harry pointedly. "You should develop one."

"I still don't see what the issue is, Harry." Hermione decided to outright ignore George. "If Snape prefers blokes, you could try and woo him or something_―_regardless of what _I_ think about it." Harry gave her a look. Unbeknownst to them, Severus scowled. Severus Snape could not be wooed; Severus Snape was the one doing the wooing. "You've liked him since you were fifteen, so―"

"With all the men you could want, you choose the only bastard who doesn't want to get into your pants . . ." George mused, while winking at the waitress.

"I think I love him—"

'_What?'_

The man sitting in the table behind Harry choked on his drink, and Harry was interrupted by him; he turned around and looked concerned at the man. Hermione and George leaned forward to see if everything was okay and suddenly Severus found himself under the scrutiny of the three young adults. He kept coughing, trying to expel the drink from his lungs.

"Are you okay, sir?" Granger asked helpfully. Severus gave her a look that stated very well how worthless he thought her question to be. She drew back startled – probably at the familiarity of the look. Severus controlled his breathing and it finally evened out. He panted hard trying to compensate for the breathless moments; he recovered his composure soon enough.

"No, miss, I do not require your help, though I appreciate your concern," he said, coolly, obviously not meaning a word he said. Harry's head snapped at Severus in shocked surprise, and then he shook his head to disperse thoughts he probably believed to be ridiculous. Oh, he could not have known that this man was indeed the theme of his early conversation. Severus gazed at him thoughtfully, trying to assess the truth of Harry's words.

Granger's expression changed to suspicious – Severus ignored her. Harry found himself blushing under the intensity of the stranger's stare.

"Are you sure you're alright, sir?" he asked, suddenly shy for some reason.

"I am – Mr. Potter, is it?" Severus asked. Harry nodded. "Thank you for your concern." Inadvertently, Severus' tone was much softer than when speaking with Granger. He stood up. "I shall leave now," he announced and bowed lightly. Severus didn't notice how Hermione's gaze followed him guardedly. It didn't matter. He had bigger issues to deal with.

Moments later, he was out in the cool summer breeze of the night and he disappeared to the castle's entrance.

-xXxXx-

"Good evening, sir!" Harry exclaimed happily – overly so, trying to compensate for any awkwardness left from the day Severus had walked Harry home – as he entered his old classroom, next Monday. James had already been left in the care of Izzy, since Severus had allowed Harry into his quarters.

"Good evening, Mr. Potter," the teacher replied. Harry blanched and it took them a moment to understand why.

The classroom looked the same, Severus was sitting at his desk like he usually was and there were some notes written on the blackboard, just like usual; there was nothing wrong with the man's words, as well. The tone, however, chilled Harry. For a moment there, he realised that the one standing in front of him was not _Severus_ – how he had come to call the Potions Master in his head – but _Snape_, his old teacher.

Harry would have become sad and withdraw from their friendship, he would have left right in that moment, unable to deal with Severus' moods, but over the last two months, Harry had come to know Severus and so this behaviour fit a pattern that Harry recognised. Severus was scared. His mind provided him only one cause―

"It was you, last Friday, at the pub." It was a statement. Severus' surprise and shock struck him to silence.

It was just so surreal to have Harry of all people demanding his affections. For some peculiar reason, the creature seemed to care about what Severus thought of him; Harry seemed to admire him to some extent – no doubt he had found some very Gryffindor-ish explanation to it – and that was just_―_frightening. There was nothing bitterer than seeing Harry look at him with resigned hurt in his eyes, as if for some reason Severus was expected to face the issue and admit that he was_―_What?

Sighing, he decided that he wouldn't do this. There was too much at stake. In times like these, Severus wanted revenge; he wanted Harry to feel as vulnerable as he felt. For a fleeting moment there, Severus almost felt hope in Harry's love. That would be absurd. He looked at Harry warily.

"Yes." No point in denying it; not when Harry was already sure. "Which made me realise that we have gone too far; this is nothing more than a professional―"

Harry snorted at the ridiculousness of the scene. Somewhere in his mind, Harry knew that this was not only about Severus' indifference, but for his fight with Hermione for _his_ _own_ happiness, as if she had any sort of claim on him, for everyone who had died, for everyone who left him after the war, for everything he had almost lost because of Ginny. Severus would make it alright, if he just accepted Harry.

"I need you," Harry whispered, at last, unable to keep pretending anymore. His bluntness and straightforwardness had always been his trademark assets; he could not pretend anymore. He slumped against his desk with a loud thud. "It has always been you." Severus got up and moved limply around his own desk.

"You never had me to begin with." Harry looked straight into Severus' eyes and the fierce determination Severus saw made his stomach lurch. Harry wanted to tell him that he had in fact had Severus' attention during three months, three years ago, but he didn't.

Severus' face was expressionless, but since he wasn't Occluding, Harry could see the confusion, doubt, wariness, tiredness and the damage that decades of loneliness had left on this proud man.

"I want to."

"Since when have I cared for what you want?" Harry blanched visibly. Severus' grimace was one of bittersweet satisfaction, as if Harry had finally granted him what he wanted but he didn't like it. Severus felt that Harry's interest was a momentary whim. Harry wanted someone to cry upon and found the only one who could not deny him. Well, the brat would be disappointed, because Severus had long ago stopped caring for the fact that he was lonely.

"You must understand why I need your friendship," Harry began urgently, trying to convince Severus and his hand motioned to take Severus'. "You were always there, you know_―_like Hogwarts, yes? It's just, it feels good to have you near me, you have to understand, it feels safe_―_I need that, I_―_please, for three years, I—"

That was the last straw. How dared Harry say that he wanted something for three years and let Severus alone to pine for it?

"Mr. Potter, do not presume you can take such intimate tone with me." Severus' tone left no space for complaints. "Perhaps it's time for us to end this; I'm sure you can work on your own from now on." Harry's heart fell to his feet.

Desperate, he decided to take something for himself.

Harry walked to Severus and the man looked like he wanted to push Harry away; he didn't. Harry neared him and Severus leaned heavily against his cane. In a daze, accepting the surrealist reality he appeared to be in, Harry put his hands on Severus' shoulders and pulled his body forward.

Severus' breath caught in his throat at Harry's proximity. He could smell Harry's aftershave and his perfume and see droplets of tears in his closed eyelids—

Harry pressed his lips against Severus'. The world stopped. Harry nibbled on his lips carefully, tasting what he could, and his tears welled up and his belly tightened in need and his heart beat quickened and it all felt _oh-so-wonderful_ and alive and_―_the fire in the fireplace extinguished itself. Harry moved away and kissed Severus' rough cheek gently.

The earth began moving again. That's when Harry noticed that Severus' hands were on his hips and his grip was strong enough to keep Harry in place; the cane had fallen. Severus had his eyes closed and was panting heavily, as if he was fighting a mighty beast – which he probably was and it was probably himself.

Harry realised that the man's self control was hanging by a thread. He took a moment to think if this was what he really wanted – he didn't want to hurt Severus, after all – but he made his decision a second later. Yes, he did want this. So very much. Harry let his hands fall to Severus' upper arms and squeezed.

"Let me care for you," Harry pleaded. Severus looked down and his hair fell to his face, obscuring his expression. His hold on Harry's hips tightened.

"Alright."

TBC

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**Thank you for reading.**


	4. Something Right

**Rating: **M/NC-17

**Disclaimer:** This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoat Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended – _Standard disclaimer_.

**Warnings:** SS/HP; foul language and explicit sexual content between two males – slash; angst; spoilers; AR.

**Words:** ~12,000

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**Chapter 3: ****Something Right**

By Dani-ko  
Beta'd by WithDemonWings

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Harry peeked into Severus' private office, partially expecting not to see him there – since it was Saturday – but as usual, there the man was, in front of his work table, brewing something. Harry smiled tenderly. In the end, Severus was very predictable. Without making a noise, the young man approached Severus, surrounded his middle with both arms and snuggled against his back tightly. Severus tensed, but relaxed almost immediately and leaned into Harry embrace.

"One ought to expect that after seven years of magical education, you would know not to surprise a man with dangerous instruments in his hands," he commented, waving his silver spoon, but his tone was warm and – Harry dared to hope – fond. The young man grinned and buried his face further into Severus' back, inhaling deeply the scent of the other.

"And one ought to expect that after a week of dating, you would finally kiss me," Harry counteracted, trying to imitate Severus smooth speech; it didn't work.

Even so, a tell-tale blush made its way to Severus' hollow cheeks. Never one to back down from a challenge, he cleaned his hands on his apron and, as Harry loosened is hold, he turned around. He placed one hand on Harry's forearm and wrapped his other arm loosely around Harry's shoulders; the hand on Harry's arm squeezed lightly, as if seeking reassurance, and then made its way towards the young man's cheek. Harry blushed at the hesitance and tenderness of the touch, and his eyes drifted close.

Finally, he felt the weight of two lips_―_pressing against his forehead. He sighed, disappointed and exasperated, even if he knew full well that he shouldn't press the issue; Severus would kiss him when he felt ready for it. Even if, by the looks of it, Harry would probably have to wait another three years.

"What are you doing here, Mr. Potter?" Severus asked at last, not breaking the embrace. It settled Harry somewhat. He smiled.

"I came to visit Hermione," he explained, leaning into the hand caressing his cheek. "We always have lunch together on the second of May." _'It is the anniversary of the war already?'_ Severus would've been happy to forget about it. Under his absent gaze, Harry began fidgeting with the back of his robes and, when he finally looked up, his dashing eyes were shining with longing. After a fleeting moment of hesitation, Harry proceeded, "Actually, I came down here to ask you if you wanted to spend the evening with me."

"Why?" that was what Severus asked, unable to help himself. It's not that he didn't wish for Harry's company, but it still amazed him, and scared him silly if he was honest with himself – which he wasn't – that such a delectable, powerful, young wizard was remotely interested in him romantically and, if the _thing_ poking him on the thigh – the one Harry thought he hadn't noticed – was of any indication, physically too.

As he was assaulted by a very vivid imagery of why he wanted Severus company, Harry licked his dry lips, but composed himself right away, not wanting to upset his – well, he was yet to be sure of what they were and, so, he answered the question he had been asked half-truthfully, "Because I don't want to be alone today and I'm guessing that neither do you."

One can't argue with the truth, Severus thought. He nodded once, pushing Harry away gently. Even after a week, it didn't get old how Severus was so careful and gentle in his touches and still refused to express his feelings verbally – or in any other way, actually – or started any contact himself. It would have been enough to upset Harry, had he not recently got some insight on Severus' persona.

"I thought you would be going to the Ministry's ceremony," Severus commented, prompting Harry to explain why he wasn't going. Harry flashed him a beautiful smile, hinting, rather bluntly, that Severus was part of the reason, but still looked down awkwardly, as if he was feeling guilty about thinking so.

"I don't want to go, so I won't go." Severus seemed surprised; the Harry he used to know would put everyone's wishes above his own. At least, Severus had made Harry confident enough to stand up for himself like he used to, he thought proudly. "So, will you?" Harry repeated. Slowly and hesitantly, the older man touched Harry's cheek with a single finger.

"I see no reason to deny you," he conceded. "Although, you have to wait for a moment. I've been brewing all day, I must shower," he grimaced, "my hair and skin feel disgusting." Harry blinked in surprise, but looked away immediately, afraid of offending the man. Severus was looking at him with a calculating look, though Harry didn't notice. There was a voice in Severus' head – sounding awfully like a conscience – that begged him to shut up and don't pursue that line of thought, but as he was prone to do, he ignored it. "Mr. Potter," he called, "you obviously wish to say something." Harry blushed embarrassed.

"No, it's nothing," he was quick to reply.

"I'm sure it must have something to do with my hair," Severus insisted, straightening his back and looming over Harry. Somehow, the intimidating display spurred Harry into action; he looked straight into Severus' eyes and pointed a finger at him.

"You are trying to bait me," he stated, firmly. Severus' face didn't betray a thing, but his heart-beat increased exponentially. Harry continued, "Well, let me tell you that it won't work; so, unless you specifically tell me to bugger off – and we both know you won't because I really think you like me – we are together now." Severus relaxed slightly and ignored how his conscience was practically glowing with smugness. Apparently, Harry was encouraged by what he saw. "I never thought the potions' fumes affected your looks, but I wouldn't care even if they didn't." Harry approached the other man and kissed his cheek, lingering a bit. "Besides, I do think you're sexy and handsome."

Severus nodded once, but seemed unable to speak. Of their own volition, his arms surrounded Harry, and he held the young man awkwardly. The gesture clearly said, _'I apologise; I'll work it out.'_ It was enough to satisfy Harry.

"We may meet at your house, if you so wish," the older man said, after a moment, and Harry heard a whole new number of things in that sentence that had nothing to do with the literal meaning of the words. Harry smiled and kissed Severus' cheek again.

"No, I can wait here," Harry argued, "I just have to go to Hermione's quarters—"

"You could spend some more time with Ms. Granger, and I shall join you shortly," Severus suggested, nonchalantly, but they both knew better. Harry's eyes lit up in appreciation and affection, knowing that this was Severus' way of telling him that he didn't mind other people knowing about their relationship, which was a gigantic step for them both.

"Okay," Harry acceded and left the room, sparing Severus a smile right before he crossed the doorway. Shaking himself out of his fantasy-induced stupor, Severus went to do what he had planned. As such, about half-an-hour, Severus had finished his ablutions and was limping up the stairs, heading towards Hermione Granger's quarters.

When he approached the door, he heard the unmistakable sound of Minerva, Remus and George's voices. He sighed, knowing that there was no way out of this. Damn Gryffindors. He knocked. Promptly, hurried steps could be heard and Granger opened the door, blushing and looking like she didn't believe he was really standing there. Severus decided that he was almost glad for his training as a spy, because it was the only thing preventing from blushing under the hungry gaze of the four Gryffindors.

"I'm here for Harry, Ms. Granger—" he tried to say, but she interrupted him, by waving her hands in front of his face.

"Please, professor, come in," she invited in a rush. "Can I get you something? Tea? Coffee?" Severus quirked an eyebrow at her, but said nothing. Why would Granger be so nervous when she was usually such a confident young woman? He stepped inside nonetheless and stood next to Harry and James; the older Potter smiled lightly at him.

"You can sit, you know, Severus?" Minerva said, and the smugness in her voice was impossible to miss.

"She wants you to like her," Remus offered, from across the room, pointing Hermione with his head, when he noticed Severus' eyes darting in confusion. The Potions Master pondered asking why, but then he remembered how he had felt the first time Lily introduce him to someone she liked and wisely shut up. He sat down and leaned back against the seat, crossing his legs in front of him.

"I would accept tea, Ms. Granger," he offered mildly. She smiled brightly, poured him black tea, with no milk or sugar, and handed him the cup. "Thank you." Silence set in the room, until it was broken by Minerva's chuckling.

"How do you feel, Severus, trapped in the lions' den?"

"Uncomfortable," he replied, matter-of-factly. Harry outright laughed, while Remus chuckled and Hermione and George just smiled lightly, obviously unsure about how to act.

"Hum, sorry, professor," Hermione said, just as helpful as she had been at fourteen. "Draco usually comes, but this year he's at a Healers convention, so we are meeting next week for dinner. You could join us," she invited brightly, as if she suddenly had an epiphany. "I'm sure Harry was planning on bringing you anyway—"

"Ms. Granger," Severus interrupted her rant abruptly and turned to Harry, "Did I misunderstand when you told me we would be spending the evening at your home?" Harry blushed embarrassed, as if he feared he had exaggerated, but shook his head in denial at Severus' question. Minerva snickered and George smirked wickedly.

"So eager," he taunted. Severus glared at them and pretended not to notice the innuendo. Turning towards Harry once again and seeing that the boy was distressed, Severus was quick to spare him a fleeting smile to show that he was not upset. "We don't bite, Professor," George said, sulking slightly when his amazing humour was ignored; he obviously thought he was losing a good opportunity to taunt his teacher and get away with it.

"Thank you, Mr. Weasley, for the update," Severus replied dryly. Remus and Minerva chuckled. In that moment, Severus attention was brought towards Harry, who had stood up and began talking hurriedly with Hermione, further to the side, while the woman held James. The young man looked at him and Severus quirked an eyebrow questioningly.

"I'll leave James with Mione today—" Harry started to say, but Severus interrupted him, frowning.

"Is there any particular reason for doing so?" Surely Harry didn't expect them to get_―intimate_. The young man opened his mouth to speak, blushing bright red, but Severus proceeded, "If it's because of me, I assure you I have no issues with your child." He paused. "Now, if you please." Severus got up and gestured for Harry to pick up James. Soon enough, the three of them were all set and biding the others goodbye.

Severus pretended not to notice the warning stares he was receiving, even if he couldn't help but to glare defensively.

They walked through the grounds in silence, but this time it was an awkward one. After a moment, Harry started to fidget with James' blue carrier. Severus sighed heavily and put a hand on Harry's shoulder to still him, which the boy did, turning around to face Severus' directly.

"I have the feeling that you are upset, Mr. Potter," Severus commented. Harry looked away, but then lifted his gaze firmly.

"You don't want to be alone with me," Harry accused, but it was not true.

"No, I merely think it's exaggerated to leave your child with someone else," the older wizard replied. "He does sleep, does he not?" Obviously relieved, Harry laughed, and Severus found himself sparing him a discreet smile. "I just don't wish for you to cut on the time you spend with your child because of me." Harry opened his mouth to protest, but Severus cut him off. "Perhaps you are under the impression that I hate children?" He phrased it as a question. Harry blushed slightly.

"You are not exactly quiet about it," Harry pointed out, matter-of-factly. Severus gave him a look.

"I do not hate children," he stressed out. "I must confess I have little patience for teenagers, and students even less, but I do not hate them—" For the first time, Harry saw Severus hesitate. "—and let's not forget that your child is not any child." Severus' eyes became very open when he said that and Harry could see the truth in his words.

As appreciation and encouraged by Severus' words, Harry pecked him on the lips. Severus tensed, but didn't pull away. James giggled, bringing them back to reality. While Harry grinned awkwardly, Severus cleared his throat and waved a hand towards the road to Hogsmeade.

"Shall we?" Harry nodded, still bashful, and they resumed their path. They were already in the village when Harry slowed down his pace and gazed thoughtfully at the grocery shop. After a moment, he shrugged and motioned to head home. Severus saw the entire display and quirked an eyebrow at him. Harry just smiled.

"I just remembered that I should buy some things," he explained, "but that's okay, I can return later." Once again Severus frowned at that.

"Why not do it now?" And once again, Harry seemed at a loss of what to say. Severus sighed exasperatedly. "Waiting for a moment won't certainly make me end things between us, I assure you." Harry grinned ruefully, but the embarrassment was still visible.

"I guess I still don't know what's okay and what isn't," the young man confessed. Severus waved his hand dismissively, but Harry could see the pleased glint in his eyes at their domesticity.

-xXxXx-

The evening had ended fast. They had made dinner together – Severus mostly looming over Harry's shoulder and curiously inquiring about the state of the meal. Then, Harry had taken James to bed, leaving Severus alone in the living room, remembering the wonderful evening they had had, and thinking how much more wonderful would it be were they to do this every day.

That was when his rational mind warn him about the improbability of Harry wanting a long-term relationship with him . . . His selfish mind replied by remembering him that, if he didn't believe in Harry's affections, he should take advantage of the situation before it ended.

As such, Severus was sitting on the couch, waiting for his young paramour – which wasn't exactly an accurate description, but it would hopefully be soon. Severus crossed his legs in front of him and took a sip of his tea – no sugar or milk – while glaring at the fireplace. He agreed that he should be taking anything and everything he could from Harry, because this surreal relationship would most certainly end as soon as the young man got his wits back, but instead he was acting like a school _female_ virgin—

It was just that, if he allowed himself to succumb to Harry's charm, there would be no way of turning back and Severus would take and take and take until he could take no more.

"James is asleep," Harry announced, as he re-entered the living room. Severus nodded absentmindedly and Harry sighed, wondering what had made Severus so withdrawn this time. "You look angry," the young man commented, sitting next to him. Severus' face softened and he looked at the boy.

"No, Mr. Potter, I'm not, just tired."

"You cannot do that," Harry accused teasingly, pointing an accusing finger. "I meant to tell you earlier, you can't call me 'Harry' and then call me 'Mr. Potter' when you feel like it." Severus couldn't help it, he smirked, amused.

"Is that a rule?" Harry's mouth twitched upwards, but he managed to muster a glare. Severus looked down, towards the fireplace once again, in order to prevent himself from giving away his wayward emotions. Harry was fidgeting with his own cup. The older wizard looked at his pocket watch, pretending nonchalance. "I should probably leave," he told Harry.

The disappointment in Harry's eyes was unmistakable; Severus didn't know what to say to make Harry happy again, but he didn't think that he could give Harry what he so desperately wanted. He placed a hand on top of Harry's and made the boy look up. "Perhaps we could enjoy the evening together ag—"

Harry pressed his lips against Severus'. Deeply and firmly.

The older man's eyes widened and he stood there, apathetic, letting Harry nibble on his lips, with green eyes closed and fluttering eyelids, while the supple body pressed itself against Severus' completely. It was hot and demanding and Severus felt his body reacting to it. His unresponsive lips must have had given Harry the wrong idea, because the young man pulled back and moved away.

"I shouldn't ha—"

That was exactly when Severus sent his caution to hell.

Severus' arm sneaked around Harry's waist and pulled the boy against his body again, covering the soft rosy lips with his own demanding mouth. He wanted to taste it all. The teacher kissed the upper lip gently, then the lower one; one of his hands made its way to Harry's raven locks and pulled the other's head closer, his tongue darted out to lick the man's lips. Harry allowed him entrance and Severus pressed his tongue against Harry's, prompting it to move.

Their tongues moved against one another other. Harry's arms curled around Severus' neck and he shifted in the seat until he was almost straddling the man's legs. It felt so good to just be kissed by Severus; his body was tingling with pleasure from feeling the weight of another person's mouth on his, and arousal shot through him. They broke the kiss for air, both panting in compensation for the breathless moments.

Eyes opened leisurely and locked. Desire shot through both and, while Severus leaned back, Harry launched himself forward landing on top of Severus, letting his hands map the man's chest, allowing the teacher's left thigh between his legs, shamelessly rubbing himself against it; his right hand descended to Severus thigh, caressing the atrophied muscle.

Severus smiled into the kiss and ran his hands down Harry's back; he pushed himself upwards seeking pleasure, using his good leg for leverage. Harry moaned and ground his hips against Severus'; as they rutted against each other intensely; their tongues moved sensually against each other and their hips snapped passionately.

Their heartbeats were fast and their breathing needs became more urgent. Harry broke the kiss and leaned his forehead against Severus' chest, breathing heavily, propping himself on his arms on each side of Severus' body, while he thrust fast against the man's thighs; Severus' hands clutched Harry's arse and pulled him forward, increasing contact, while his mouth pressed against Harry's neck, breathing in his scent.

Soon, it was too good, too hot, too much—

"Nghn!" Harry came undone with a strangled cry and brought his hand to Severus' crotch to bring him to completion; it only took Harry's touch, and Severus too came silently, biting Harry's shoulder through the cloth.

Harry slumped against Severus, burying his face on the older man's chest, bringing his hand to caress the rough skin of Severus' neck. Severus returned the touch, entwining his fingers with Harry's locks. Harry let the other's heavy breath and racing heartbeat to lull his senses and calm his shivering body. It felt too good to be with the one he had wanted for three years. The need to say something got overwhelming and it was Harry who broke first; he looked up.

"Uh," he began, not sure about what to say.

"Eloquent as ever, Mr. Potter." Harry rolled his eyes.

"Well, it's not every day that I snog my Potions teacher," Harry replied. A tinge of pink coloured Severus' cheeks and he scowled.

"Yes, well, you didn't seem to mind a moment ago," he pointed out. Harry smiled shyly.

"I didn't," he said, and Severus found himself smiling slightly. "Though, I want_―_I would like—" Harry fought with his words and blushed. He decided that words were overrated and pressed his lips against Severus'. Severus returned the kiss gently, but then placed his hand on Harry's chest and pushed him away.

"That's the second time you kiss me trying to tell me something," he said. Harry sat back, straddling Severus' hips. "You know that actual words would probably suffice." By the end of his sentence, Severus voice had taken an absent tone, and nobody could blame, because by some very obvious – albeit denied – reason, seeing Harry sit on top of him like he was did odd things to both his body and mind.

"I want more," Harry blurted out, drawing circles on the other's clothed chest. Severus' eyes widened slightly and a tell-tale blush made its way to his cheeks at Harry's blatant proposition.

"I see." And by the hungry glint in his eyes it was obvious that he saw it all too well. "That is easily arranged," he replied sensuously, but then, he hesitated, "But not now. Is that acceptable?"

"Soon?" Harry asked gently.

"Soon." As they cast cleaning charms and cuddled for the rest of the evening, Severus couldn't bring himself to care about his lost resolutions, nor that he was losing his unimpaired aloofness.

-xXxXx-

_With this rare display of affection, it ends the day during which Professor Snape and Harry Potter found themselves under the curious – and infamous – gaze of Rita Skeeter_.

_Regardless to say that, being their relationship such a new thing for them both – and considering how both of them could really work on their self-esteem – neither reacted to the Daily Prophet article in the most gracious way—_

_- May, 4th of 2001-_

"Ten points from Gryffindor, Miss Wilkinson," Severus barked on his way towards the dungeons after lunch. The girl sputtered indignantly.

"What for, Professor?"

"For gossiping about a teacher's personal life," he replied coolly, while extending one graceful hand. "Hand me that magazine at once," he ordered, ignoring the hurtful gaze of the student as she reluctantly did as she was told. Severus looked at her and everything about the girl annoyed him. "That thing you are wearing on your hair it's absolutely appalling," he informed her, wondering if he could take more House points and pointing at her sparkling hair-pin. "Take that off—"

"Severus!" The man tensed, but instead on turning towards the voice, he glared at the girl – who held his gaze magnificently – as if it was her fault he had been caught by Minerva taking points unfairly. Well, in a way, it was her fault, since she _was_ a Gryffindor and had crossed his path when he was on a foul humour. Not waiting to see the outcome, Wilkinson and her friends scrammed from the scene, daring to spare Severus a smug smirk. Oh, but he would get them . . .

"I can't believe you are petty enough—"

"Yes, yes, Minerva, I know the speech," he interrupted, finally turning to face her. "May I ask what your point is?" The Headmistress opened her mouth to reprimand him some more, but decided against it, since it would be useless either way. She sighed in defeat and approached her initial purpose.

"Have you heard from Harry?" Severus tensed and, if Minerva noticed, she ignored it. "Neither Remus or Hermione got a reply to their letters."

"Everything is very much fine with the boy," he said, ignoring the fact that Harry was not so much of a boy anymore. "He is probably going to be busy all day, since he is at the Ministry trying to placate the mess Skeeter's nosiness created." Minerva smirked smugly.

"And how would you know that?" While doing is best not to blush, Severus replied and he chose to think that he did so with his usual aloofness.

"Mr. Potter sent me a letter a few moments ago, explaining to me that he probably won't be able to attend to his classes tonight." Minerva nodded. Then, she faced Severus with a look on her face that meant Severus was about to be lectured.

"You are not mad at Harry, are you?" she asked. While the question hardly caught him by surprise – Severus could no longer deny his involvement with Harry, nor did he want to – it meant that answering Minerva would probably give away how much he cared for the Harry, given that she knew him very well. Severus was not angry – even if he was terribly embarrassed and taking it out on students – he wasn't embittered by his own feelings, as it had happened so many times in the past.

"No, I'm not," he replied, at last, earnestly. Minerva appeared moved by his honesty and by the answer itself.

"I'm happy for you, Severus." Of course, he had known it would get to this. "I'm happy you found something to truly live for." He should have left it at that, but somehow that seemed to be a terrible disrespect towards Harry. So, against her expectations, he answered.

"Thank you." Neither said anything else, and each went their separate ways.

During the rest of the evening Severus attended his classes and – very bravely, he might add – dealt with silly girls that had decided their teacher did indeed deserve some love, and all but swooned at his passage, and some other girls, and boys, blushing and muttering uncomfortably about his private life. That was what made his mood improve tenfold; sadistically, he couldn't help but be satisfied by their embarrassment. No child should be confronted with the fact that their teachers are human beings with private – and sexual – lives.

When the clock struck the six, Severus was alone in his office, almost wishing to hear a knock on the door. Said knock didn't come, as he already expected to happen. Not seeing what else to do, Severus retreated to his quarters and asked Izzy to bring his dinner there.

After dinner, he was lounging in his sofa in front of the fireplace, with a book and a goblet of wine on his hands, when he heard the Black Wyrm laugh, and that was all the warning he got, before Harry made his way into his quarters.

They gazed at each other for a while and, while Severus was not angry with Harry, he had no way of knowing if the young man had finally realised the disadvantages of being associated with Severus Snape. To worsened the matters, Harry was fidgeting, as he took off his robe and handed it to the house-elf. Then, he sat down next to Severus, politely declining the offer for tea.

"Where is Mr. Potter, the second?" he asked and he was glad that nobody – except his rather oblivious paramour – was there to testify his very first attempt at _dawdling_. And it was not a very good attempt, at that. But of course, Harry just spared him a fleeting smile and looked back down at his knees. Severus waited a moment, knowing Harry was about to—

"Are you mad?" the young man blurted out, very predictably. It was not quite what Severus had expected, though.

"No, I am not," he replied cautiously, "though I expected you to be." Harry looked up and blinked in surprise at those words; he had been pining all day, just _knowing_ that Severus would send him on his merry way for having his name all over the papers. Again. Harry had all but rushed here as soon as possible, wanting to fix the issue. Maybe he had undervalued the importance of their bond. Harry sighed in relief and flashed Severus a dashing smile.

"Then, everything is fine, right?" he asked just for good measure.

"It most certainly is," Severus assure him. Unable to help himself, Harry threw himself into the teacher's arms and held him close. "I knew you would be the cuddling type," the older man commented. Harry tensed and Severus loosened his hold so that the boy could look up at him; Harry hesitated, as if not wanting to hear the answer, but asked his question nonetheless.

"That's not a bad thing, is it?" Severus smiled that discreet smile of his. The one that made him look as if he didn't quite know how to smile properly.

"I reason that no, it is not." Surprisingly, he meant it. It would take a while for him to be comfortable while demanding affections and, even then, he was probably going to do so rarely, but he was more than happy to allow Harry to touch and express his feelings. He had to admit – at least to himself – that he never had such an affectionate lover before, so he had had no way of knowing that this kind of demonstrations could actually be very appreciated.

Harry snuggled closer again, and Severus leaned back on his seat, letting Harry rest against his side. Both of them felt very good on these moments – and they only had a week worth of them – because neither had had much warmth in their lives. Harry was determinate to compensate for it during his adulthood. Severus was happy to oblige.

After a moment – or many moments, who knows – Harry began to fidget with Severus' buttons. The older wizard patiently waited for Harry to find the boldness to ask what he wanted to ask.

"Do you, um, have anything you want to ask me?" Severus frowned in confusion. Now, why would he want to ask something? Then, he remembered some stories he used to hear in the teacher's lounge about spouses asking questions like this as a test; usually the stories ended with the story-teller sleeping on the sofa.

"No," he answered truthfully, knowing that lying would get him nowhere. "Should I?" he asked apprehensively. Harry fidgeted some more, not wishing to make Severus think that he was giving to much importance to the subject – which he did, but Severus didn't need to know that.

"Forget it, then." Okay, now Harry was outright playing coy, and Severus had little patience for that.

"Mr. Potter, would you speak at once?" Harry sighed exasperatedly, not so annoyed at Severus snapping at him as he would have been in the past.

"I thought you would want to bash me for naming James after you," the young man replied. Severus tensed. Yes, he remembered that, and his heart had lurched when he read that part of the article, but he reasoned that it didn't mean anything – except maybe a heart attack – so it would be useless to bring it up.

"I thought it was odd, yes," he said cautiously. Harry leaned back and looked straight at him.

"When James was born, I was very happy, partly because having a child was something that I had done that could not get wrong," Harry explained, and Severus listened carefully. "Then, Ginny said something when I was visiting her that made me think of you and I thought that you would probably never have what I got that day." Severus wanted to be offended, but there was something in the way Harry said that that made him realise Harry was not trying to hurt him at all. Besides, he was right, anyway. Severus still doubted he would have any children. "I thought that you would never have someone to wonder with stories about your life and nobody would to remember you for who you were when you, hum, passed away—"

"I see," Severus said, but he could not bring himself to be annoyed by the sympathy in Harry's voice.

"So, I decided that I would tell James about you and then he could remember you and praise you for what you've done." Severus was almost choked with emotion, and not only at Harry's thoughtfulness. That's what every man wanted, right? To leave something in this world that said "I was here". He nodded in understanding. "That's why I gave him your name," Harry concluded hastily.

"That was—" What could one say to show appreciation for such a _gift_? "—very nice of you." _'_Nice_? Wonderful word, Severus_—_for the weather!'_ he thought to himself, but Harry didn't seem to mind, because he flashed Severus a beautiful smile and cuddled against him once again. Suddenly, Severus wanted to bring Harry closer. His hold on Harry tightened, as he brought both hands around the lithe body and held the young man closer.

Harry understood the gesture. He didn't mention it, but secretly he was happy that Severus wasn't mad at Harry for presuming too much and, maybe, he was even thankful for it. Harry suspected so.

"What did Miss Weasley tell you that reminded you of me?" the older man asked, at last, trying to change the subject into a lighter one. Harry tensed.

"That now that she had given me something I wanted, I should be able to stop pinning after you." Neither man spoke again, until Harry decided to leave; neither broke the embrace, as well.

-xXxXx-

After that day, things changed between them. It was a subtle change, but it was there nonetheless. For those who knew them, it was obvious that something had happened, because Severus and Harry had developed an aura of peacefulness and happiness around them. Before, there had been affection, yes, but also a lot of insecurity, hesitancy and eagerness – as if they should take as much as they as long as they could – but not anymore.

They were happy, although both of them still trod through their relationship very cautiously when regarding James.

Severus had begun to smile in public – one of those blink-and-you-miss-it smiles, but a smile nonetheless, during which his eyes glinted with mirth. Harry had became more confident and no longer feared to be around people so much; now, he managed to be focused on those he actually wanted to be focused on. Hermione had never been so happy to be wrong. And Draco Malfoy had felt his heart lurch at the sight of his godfather so happy; he thanked Harry silently every chance he got.

And thus a month had passed.

It was a Saturday and Severus wasn't in the mood for brewing, so he was just lounging in his living room, wondering what to do.

Harry was at the Ministry, doing Merlin-knows-what and James was with his godmother – Hermione – to spend the evening with. Perhaps he could visit the young teacher. He immediately decided against it when he remembered that the last time he had done so, he had caught her being thoroughly ravished by Lupin. Severus should have knocked anyway, but she had been the one to say "Come by anytime, Professor."

Maybe Minerva was free . . .

Had this afternoon occurred three months ago and he would have spend it searching for Potion ingredients for his potions deep into the Forbidden Forest, but now he wished for human company, which was a poor replacement for Harry's company, yes, but at least it was better than beetle-eyes, aconite and Angel's Trumpet. It was in this frame of mind that Severus got up, picked up his cane and headed towards the Headmistress' office.

The Gargoyle glared at him, but let him pass anyway; it probably knew better than to mess with Severus Snape.

That was when Severus heard the unmistakable sound of James Potter, the second, crying his lungs out. He hurried towards the office, knocked and entered without waiting for permission. Minerva had charmed a transfigured crib to play a soothing tune – though who was supposed to be soothed was crying at the top of his lungs on the arms of the Headmistress.

"Thank the Lord you are here, Severus," Minerva said, more than just a bit desperate. "James won't stop crying and I have no idea what to do." As soon as James saw Severus, he stretched his arms, asking to be picked up and mouthing silly nothings.

Severus hesitated. What should he do? He had never held James before, nor had he wished to since getting attached just wouldn't do, but he was a familiar face and that seemed to be calming James somehow. He picked up the boy by his arm pits, holding his head upright. James stopped crying and was looking at Severus curiously, while waving his arms, trying to reach the man's chest and be held more securely. Severus didn't indulge him.

"Whuh Pa-pa?" he asked. Severus blinked, surprised. He had heard James talk before, but he hadn't paid attention, thinking that he wouldn't understand, although he had to admit that he understood that alright. 'Where is Papa?'

"Your father is working," Severus replied, mildly aware that what James would retain of his explanation was that Harry was not there. As if to prove Severus right, James started to wail again.

The man handed James back to Minerva; immediately, the boy started to outright cry. Wondering exactly when had the signed up for this, Severus gave James a reassuring smile, which made the boy stop crying and reach for Severus again. Aware that he probably still had traces of potion fumes in his robes, and not wishing to expose James to them, the wizard removed his outer robes, revealing a white shirt, a maroon waist-coat and tie, and black trousers. He tied his hair back and motioned for the boy.

Severus picked James up, holding him against his chest. The boy seemed to calm down a little, but was still on verge of tears.

"Now, we shall find ourselves something to do while we wait for Papa," Severus said, moving with difficulty to sit down in one of the armchairs in front of the fireplace, with James in his lap. That's when he noticed the odd – and slightly impressed – look Minerva was giving him. "What?"

"It suits you," Minerva said, gesturing vaguely towards them. Severus quirked an eyebrow. "Paternity." Unable to help himself, he blushed. As if not to give her anything more to annoy him with – his goddamned blush already being too much – he kept his face blank as he replied.

"This child is not mine," he said. She smiled sympathetically at him, although he was sure he had detected a trace of smugness.

"It might grow to be," Minerva pointed out.

That was the issue, wasn't it? Being in a relationship required trust and Severus didn't know if he could trust Harry with something as precious as his—everything. Yes, the boy was infatuated – had been since he was fifteen, apparently – but Severus was a complicated man and he didn't know if Harry cared for him enough to stay around for some time, let alone forever. And, although he had always admired Harry, only recently had he grown to care for him romantically.

This thing between them might be nothing, and Severus couldn't risk to get too attached because a domestic life wasn't something he was born to have, no matter how much he craved for it. His trying life made him inadequate for such. Who would want a man with control issues, who woke up in the middle of the night from terrifying nightmares, wishing nothing more than to die in that moment? Even though Harry seemed to care genuinely, Severus hadn't still excluded the possibility of this being one of Harry's misplaced good deeds.

"I won't hold my breath."

-xXxXx-

Harry got into his cottage, took off his boots and replaced them with his slippers. Then, he slumped himself on the couch, breathing deeply and closing his eyes tiredly. He couldn't remember how long it had been since he had been this tired – physically and emotionally. His day had been mostly tiring, between the interviews with several papers and magazines, his duty as the Ministry's Public Relationships manager – which he only did because he actually supported Kinsley Shacklebolt – and his meeting with Mr. Ollivander.

Regardless to say, his relationship with Severus had made a lot of ink run hastily and, being a public figure, he had no choice but to deal with his fame once in a while. A small smile graced his lips when he thought of this hopefully soon-to-be lover. _'Hum, I probably should visit,'_ he thought languidly, with no wish to move whatsoever.

Harry opened his eyes and they fell on a piece of parchment magically glued to the hearth. Even from the distance, he recognised Hermione's handwriting. His heart started to beat faster. She was supposed to be babysitting James. What if something had happened while he was away? He stood with a bounce and ripped the paper of the wall.

_"Harry—_

_"Remus had an accident with one of the fourth-years' stray magic and I need to take him to St. Mungo's. I left James with McGonagall. I'm so sorry, but there's nobody else to take him. I reckon James will be fine with her._

_"Hermione_

_"P.S. You can yell at me later, alright?"_

When he finished reading the note, Harry thought that he would indeed yell at her. What did McGonagall know of children?

James always got very scared when he wasn't with someone he knew well and, while Harry could agree that he was very dependent of James for his own sense of safety – Severus told him that often enough – he also knew that James wouldn't be comfortable being taken care by someone who wasn't family and he would spare his child of any discomfort. Hermione could have left James with anyone else – George, Arthur, Molly – why did she have to choose the Headmistress, who probably had too much in her hands already?

Without wasting any time, he redressed himself and bolted to the door. He Apparated near the castle entrance and strode swiftly the rest of the way. It had barely passed ten minutes before he found himself near the Gargoyle, whom he told "Twigger Ninety" – Minerva's favourite broomstick – and headed towards the office entrance. He knocked and, soon enough, he was given permission to enter.

The sight that greeted Harry made his heart lurch and a warm tingling spread through his chest. He froze mid-step and closed his slackened mouth. James was fast asleep on Severus' chest and an empty baby bottle could be seen in a table near the armchair where Severus sat. His protective hold on James didn't waver, but Severus tensed and obviously felt uncomfortable at being seen by Harry cradling James so carefully.

"Hi," Harry greeted, more to disperse the awkward mood than because of some inherent politeness. His mind was reeling.

Severus told him once that he didn't hate children and he cared for James to some extent – since he was Harry's child – but never had he taken initiative and showed both Potters that he really meant it. For the first time during their short relationship, Harry felt hope that they could have something permanent.

After all, Severus was a good man and he would never become a part of James' life if he didn't intent to keep it that way; he would never toy with a child's feelings and so, his reluctance in accepting James told Harry that Severus didn't mean it to last. Harry had buried his disappointment deep down and enjoyed what they had together. Now, though, he hoped that his happiness could be complete.

Minerva was looking between them amused. Their defences were almost broken. They just needed a tiny push in the right direction and James could be that push. She decided that her meddling was not needed anymore.

Severus had looked positively dashing, with his sour face softened and a warm smile on his lips, as he cradled James and lulled him to sleep. It told Minerva that the man was just about to give – himself – up. Harry's eyes were shinning with wonder and so much affection that it seemed to lit up his whole face; a small smile was playing on lips and he looked a bit unsure of what to do next. Severus looked just as lost, the Headmistress noticed with a inner chuckle.

Minerva started to see why Albus liked to meddle so much. If, every time he was right, the results were as rewarding as the scene in front of her, she could see why his eyes were always twinkling. As if completing her thought, she looked up at the portrait behind her and found it smiling benevolently at her. And, even know she rationally knew that the Dumbledore-portrait wasn't able to think and feel, she could almost swear that it understood her right then.

"I trust your day went well," Severus began, getting a little annoyed by the meaningful silence. Harry blushed.

"Yeah, huh_—_sorry, I didn't expect you to be here," he said, finally getting his bearings and smiling brilliantly.

"I wasn't supposed to," Severus replied, sparing the boy a discreet twitch of lips and a glowing in his eyes, "but Minerva was fretting over your son like he was the mystery of the times and I had no choice but to help." Harry laughed candidly. Then, he motioned further into the room and sat himself in the armchair in front of Severus, as if to get a better view of the man cradling his son.

"Thank you, then," Harry said, quietly. Severus almost blushed at the reverence in Harry's voice. After a moment of staring at one another, the silence became awkward – which also might have had something to do with Minerva's clearing her throat. "Huh," Harry started, unsure, looking away and still not picking up his child. Not that neither man cared about their current position.

"Shall I walk you home, Harry?" Severus asked finally. His tone was firm and Harry thought he looked resolute; the young man nodded, unable to actually speak without making a fool of himself, since his throat had suddenly dried due to the intense look he was receiving. "Very well, then."

Harry stood up and picked James up, placing him on his Gryffindor-red carrier and holding him against his chest. Then, he handed Severus his cane and robes. They bid the Headmistress goodnight and headed out.

In silence, they made their way out of the castle, towards Harry's white-fenced cottage.

-xXxXx-

They made dinner together and ate it with James sitting between them at the top of the table. Afterwards, Harry put the boy to bed. When he returned from his child's room, Severus was sitting straight, obviously waiting for him.

The older man held out a hand, which Harry gladly took, and pulled the boy towards him. Harry blushed in wonder. Although the behaviour couldn't quite be described as passionate, it was the first time that Severus initiated actual physical contact.

Severus pulled Harry into his lap and covered the young man's mouth with his own in a fierce kiss. Thoroughly, he explored Harry's mouth, until he had reduced him to a whimpering mess, who could do no more than thrust against his thigh.

Severus shifted them, until Harry was lying on his back; he re-arranged himself so that his damaged leg was comfortably set beneath Harry's opposite thigh. He hovered over Harry for a moment, taking in the sight of the Golden Hero, wanton and submissive for him. Then, leaned forward to take his mouth again.

Harry didn't let him. The young man pulled himself up to a sitting position in front of Severus, fidgeting with his dark green robes, biting the inside of his cheek and blushing bright red. The Potion Master looked at his younger lover worriedly, wondering what had made Harry embarrassed this time. Throughout their short relationship, Harry got surprisingly bashful and shy about the oddest things.

"Harry?" he prompted, pulling his hands away from Harry's shirt buttons, letting them rest on the young man's hips, and considered his lover carefully. "What is it?"

"Hum," Harry began, hesitantly. Severus leaned forward, hinting at Harry to continue. "It's late," the younger man began restlessly. Severus frowned.

"I know, shall I go?" Severus tried. Harry looked away, confusing the older man even more.

Insecurity came, at last. Their relationship was still very new and even if Severus had decided – just hours ago in Minerva's office – to surrender completely to Harry to please him and make him happy, it was possible that Harry had got scared by his intimacy with James and didn't need or want him anymore. Severus' heart fell; coldness and despair took over. He straightened his back and flattened his palms against his own legs; his face closed and his eyes went blank—

Harry shifted and trepidation washed his expression at Severus' change. The teacher's face softened at once, realising that Harry still wished for his affection – if his uneasy reaction to Severus' indifference was any indication. Severus moved his hands towards Harry's hips once again.

"Just now, you—"

"Harry, you are disquieting my person with all this uncertainty," Severus stated in guise of explanation. "Do make your point at once," he commanded.

"Would you like to spend the night?" Harry snapped immediately, leaving Severus almost gaping, and only decades of a tight self-control prevented him from actually doing so. For a second, he thought about pretending he had mistaken Harry's invitation for an innocent one, but then he decided that it would be insulting for them both if he actually did so.

"You know I can't deny you," Severus said carefully. Harry blushed even more at Severus blatant admission of enthrallment and looked down. Severus' heart started to beat faster, but fear cooled his aroused anticipation. He had no illusions about his own aspect to wish Harry to see such a thing. He swallowed thickly and looked down, tightening his hold on Harry's hips until his knuckles were white.

"Now?" Harry asked eagerly, finally looking up.

"Whenever you want," Severus replied reflexively, realising it was the true.

"Good, 'cause I want it now." Seeing Harry's blatant eagerness, Severus did something he hadn't done in almost thirty years. He laughed. Wholeheartedly.

Harry gazed in wonder at the truly handsome sight and, unable to help himself, he laughed, too. He buried his face in the man's neck, laughing, and, even though the desire was still high and strong, the affection cursing in his body tempered the passion and made the moment become magic and ethereal. Their embrace tightened.

With a hand on Harry's jaw, Severus pulled the boy's head up and kissed him gently. "Such eagerness," Severus teased.

"Bedroom?" Harry suggested, and the other nodded.

The young man got up and helped Severus limp to the bedroom – leaving the onyx cane abandoned on the living room floor. They moved slowly, sharing soft kisses and gentle caresses. Then, Severus pushed Harry against the wall and deepened the kiss; their tongues battled ferociously, sending hot waves of arousal through their bodies.

Harry pushed himself of the wall and gently pushed Severus towards the room in the end of the hallway. Severus moved with difficulty, and Harry's mouth sucking on his neck was not helping one bit.

Severus took his turn at tasting the other's skin, just outside the bedroom, practically tearing the shirt open to lick across the chest and suck a nipple into his mouth. Harry made a hand movement to lit the lights, but soon lost himself, whimpering and arching his chest, leaning into Severus, pushing himself onto his tiptoes to get more of the arousing touches. Severus' hands were everywhere at once, feeling as much as he could of the other's body, the supple muscles shift under his touch, hearing the erotic sounds he was causing.

He felt two hands on his shoulders and looked up to see Harry, blushing and aroused, gently push him towards the bed.

"Let me please you." The young man sounded eager. Severus had to wonder why this beautiful young man wished his body so much. Harry, however, took his silence as consent. Even knowing that this probably would be a great mistake, Severus found himself unable to stop Harry's ministrations.

Harry knelt in front of Severus and made a movement to unbuckle the man's robes. He looked up at him, staring hungrily and deeply flushed, as if asking for permission. The lights deemed and the room earned an orange-ish glow; the door clicked shut, warded against the inside noise.

Severus bent over and pressed their lips together, just touching; he could see the dark eyelashes flutter against the young man's cheeks and he felt himself heat up with desire. Harry nibbled on his lips gently, worshiping. It always amazed Severus how Harry seemed to desire him with such gentleness. He let his eyes close, and breathed in deeply taking in Harry's scent, letting it coat his mind. A silky tongue touched his lips.

Severus swallowed hard when Harry – without waiting for permission – started to open the buttons of his outer robes. The black garment fell to the sides, revealing a button down white shirt and black woollen trousers; Harry un-tucked the white shirt and opened it. He looked up and their eyes locked when Harry sensuously ran his hands over Severus' chest.

Severus let his head fall back on the pillow, closed his eyes and waited.

Harry took in the sight of Severus' bare upper body. The skin was ghostly pale, with muscles slightly defined, from specific exercise; the broad thorax felt rough and hot under his touch; there were scars – too many, in fact – some small and ivory-coloured and others so ugly that distorted the skin. Severus belly-button was deformed from a deep cut that ran through his abdomen to under his trousers and the left shoulder was thinner than the other, revealing a deficiency in the musculature.

Harry pressed a lingering kiss just above Severus' heart. The man opened his eyes and assessed Harry's reaction; it confused him: sympathy, admiration, care and desire, so much desire_—_

"Does it hurt?" Harry asked, while drawing the biggest scar and stopped above the belly-button. Severus' mouth twitched upwards and his expression was rueful.

"Only when pressed," he replied, pushing himself up until he was leaning on his elbows and Harry nodded, attentively storing that information in his brain.

Harry hoped onto the bed and leaned in, encircling Severus' neck with his arms; he brought the older man's head up for a loving kiss. It started slow, with soft nibbles and loving bites, but the underlying need for more got stronger and soon Harry was keening and opening his mouth to allow Severus in, whose arms snaked around Harry's shoulders and brought the boy closer; the man swept his tongue through Harry's mouth, sending hot shivers of delight thought the young male's body.

Harry started to move against Severus clothed leg. The teacher smirked at his young lover's hurried passion, but then a protesting sound came from his throat when Harry broke their kiss. Harry helped him move backwards on the bed, as he nibbled the marred skin of Severus' neck, taking his time running his tongue through the two deep punctures in there. Severus breathed hitched and his chest arched up. Harry did it again. A moan escaped Severus' mouth.

Harry moved down, openly kissing the exposed chest. The younger man lapped at the pink nub, feeling it harden under his touch; he rubbed his hand against his own crotch to relieve the tension between his legs, while he squeezed the other nipple between his fingers. Severus groaned and buckled upwards.

Finally Harry's hands reached the Severus' belt and dexterously loosened the accessory, kissing the huge bulge through the cloth. Severus lifted his hips and both trousers and pants were pushed down to Severus' ankles and removed completely. The older man leaned on the piled pillows to accommodate himself and looked down. His member stood proud and stiff and behind it, Harry looked at him, lust shinning in his eyes.

The young man got up. For a moment, Severus thought the boy had finally decided that he didn't want a scarred man, but then Harry's hands motioned to vanish his own clothes. Severus stopped him.

"Slowly," he prompted. "Undress slowly for me." Harry did, with innocent delight at being desired in open light. Bit by bit, Harry's skin – familiar to touch, but not to sight – was revealed to Severus' appraising eyes. Oh, Harry was truly breathtaking. The teacher motioned Harry to straddle his hips and he ran his hands over the smooth calf, up his leg, caressing the skin and massaging the back of Harry's right knee. Harry leaned forward on his arms and his hips twitched downwards.

"It feels good," Harry said with a raspy, low voice. Severus smiled at him. Harry's shirt and underwear were indeed vanished. Severus took the heavy cock in his hand and stroked, letting Harry cry out his appreciation. Harry leaped to his feet and knelt on the end of the bed, with his legs spread apart, his erection jutting forward, teasing Severus with its very own existence—

His train of thought was lost when Harry ran his tongue over the head of Severus cock. Severus threw his head back and a appreciative groan exited his throat.

Harry's hand closed around the shaft. Head and hand moved rhythmically to pleasure Severus. Harry sucked the hard flesh into his mouth and bobbed his head, tightening his lips around it. His other hand slowly massaged the testicles and it made its way downwards, teasing the tight, unused entrance with magically slick fingers. Severus tensed, but it was feeble because Harry gave the cock in his mouth a powerful suck.

Harry was not disappointed when a warbling cry sounded through the room as he massaged his lover's entrance manically and the suction motion became more frantic. Severus wanted to thrust up, but his sheer willpower did not allow him to hurt Harry; his hand intertwined itself with Harry's hair and he pulled Harry's head away, thrusting his hips forward into Harry's fist a few times. Harry let him, but then pushed him down and thrust one finger deep—

Severus came down Harry's throat and both of them sobbed in pleasure.

Harry continued to lap at the softening erection, soothing the throws of passion cursing through Severus' body, while stroking himself languidly. The man loosened his hold on Harry's head and caressed the soft locks, motioning Harry upwards in the bed. The young man straddled Severus, running a hand through the man's thigh.

Severus stroked Harry furiously until the young man came with a strangled cry all over them.

Harry let himself slump against Severus; his own cock was softening, but Severus' hadn't moved his hand away and was fondling Harry out of his high.

"You know how long hasn't anyone done that to me?" Severus asked, but not so much for the interest in sharing the information as it was to share with Harry that he really liked to be touched by him. He caressed Harry's back, his hips, down to buttocks and pulled Harry forward. The man did and settled himself on Severus' lap, while he bent his head down and kissed his lover deeply and chastely on the lips.

They basked in each other's presence for a moment, sharing deep kisses just because they could, until the friction between their bodies uncovered the underlying need for completion of the act. They frotted against each other, as their cocks became fully erect again.

Severus was insatiable, after so many years of self-imposed celibacy.

Wandlessly, Harry Summoned the lube. He broke the kiss to hold the jar and Severus proceeded to plant soft butterfly kisses on Harry's jaw and neck. The younger man took one of Severus' hands, coated its fingers with the lubrication and guided it to his exposed back. Severus pressed two fingers in and Harry arched his rear into the touch, twisting his spine to feel his lover more deeply.

With one hand, Severus spread Harry's buttocks apart and the other thrust into the boy in the earnest, making Harry moan and whimper at the feelings cursing though him. The older man purposefully avoided the prostrate to tease Harry further, taking his time stretching the wanting man.

"Ready," Harry panted suddenly, tightening his hands on the back of Severus' head and bending his head to press his lips to Severus'. Severus pulled out his fingers and let Harry quickly coat his erection with the substance, while he supported the smaller body. He aligned himself with Harry's entrance.

Harry pushed himself down slowly, until his buttocks were pressed against Severus' thighs; he sighed in bliss when his lover was fully seated, rolling his hips swiftly, until he was comfortable enough to start moving. He clutched the headboard as leverage. Severus rested his forehead on Harry's chest and focused on moving his hips upwards.

"Oh, so good," the younger man moaned, letting his head fall back. Harry leaned back and his gland started to be hit with every firm thrust. He cried out and started to move at an increasing pace; he lost control of his body and he could only focus on the waves of pleasure cursing through it and on the touch of his lover.

Severus was palming Harry's upper body, caressing the pink nubs and the taunt muscles, nibbling the soft skin, worshipping the man on his lap with his hungry touches; he could not get enough of Harry. His hands were holding Harry's hips, controlling their rhythm with his hold. Harry's cock started to leak and Severus' mouth watered. He brought one hand to the other's erection and stroked leisurely.

"Ah, yes, yes, yes!" Harry shouted in time with his lover's thrusts, arching his chest and he moved faster, unsure whether to push back or thrust forward. Severus' hand tightened around the twitching member and the other reached down to massage the soft testicles. "Ah, ah, I_—_oh, sweet Merlin!"

Harry came fully on Severus' chest, all of his muscles tensing when he pushed himself down on his lover's cock, taking in all he could and burying his face on the man's neck, inhaling deeply. Severus thrust forcefully up and, with a wild groan, filled his young lover. Harry clutched the older man's shoulders, rolling his hips, riding his wonderful orgasm. Severus caressed his softening cock, nuzzling Harry's neck and surrounding the younger man's waist with both of his arms, feeling the blissful tingle of the afterglow coursing through his body and the emotional satisfaction pairing up with the physical satisfaction.

They slumped against the headboard, half-lying on the pillows, in a very awkward position. Neither cared.

"This was excellent, Harry," Severus said, caressing Harry's raven locks soothingly. "I am very, very pleased."

Harry smiled lazily and snuggled closer. They shifted on the bed, until they were lying side by side. Severus propped himself on the pillows, giving his upper body better leverage. Harry moved closer and laid his head on Severus' shoulder, shivering slightly from the cold breeze of summer night coming through the open window. Severus Summoned the younger man's bed covers and draped it over their bodies, pulling Harry against his chest more securely.

"You're perfect to me," Harry said, eyes closed and body curled against Severus. "You should know that; I want to please you as much as you want to please me," Harry confessed. Severus felt his heart swell and his throat constrict.

"Thank you, Harry." Something must have sounded through his voice, because Harry looked at him and smiled encouragingly. He placed his palm against Severus' neck and pulled him down. Their eyes fluttered closed and their lips were pressed together gently and they kissed leisurely, just touching for the pleasure of touching. Severus leaned back and cradled Harry in his arms.

In that moment, as if to remind both men that their relationship was a bit more complicated that that, a cry sounded through the room. Harry had charmed the crib to warn him when James woke up, so the blasted thing amplified the baby's crying. Sighing, the young man pressed a kiss to the older man's lips and got up. Harry Summoned some pyjama pants, went to the bathroom quickly and then headed towards James room.

He didn't take long. When he returned to bed, he slid beneath the covers and laid down next to Severus again. That was when he realised how tense the man was.

"Severus?" he asked. As if he had been waiting for that prompting, Severus answered right away.

"Perhaps I should leave?" Harry's heart fell to his feet.

"Why?" he questioned quietly, moving away warily.

"You shouldn't let your child get used to have men staying the night," it was Severus' reply.

For a moment Harry felt anger rise within him, but then it blew away. It wasn't like Severus believed he was one to have many lovers, but that he was one to have another one besides Severus. Which meant that Severus didn't believe they would last. He would have been sad and disappointed, but from the inflexion of Severus voice, it was obvious that the thought saddened him.

Harry mildly wondered when he had become expert in Severus body language.

"I won't have any other man in my bed," Harry replied, trying to reassure him. Severus opened his mouth to cut Harry's surreal ideas, but Harry didn't let him. "I love you. I have loved you for a very long time. I can easily see myself spending the rest of my life with you." Severus paled at that, but Harry could tell that it wasn't because he didn't wish for it. "It's up to you if we try it or not."

Severus said nothing else; instead he nodded and held out a hand, which Harry took once again – and would take forever if given the chance – and found himself pulled against the older man's side. Satisfied with the turn of events, Harry curled against Severus and slowly drifted to sleep.

Severus laid awake for a long time after that, trying to make sense of what was happening and thinking that somewhere, between his allegiance to a Dark Lord, his loyalty to a dead woman and a meddlesome old man, all of who had made him commit sins bigger than himself, he must have done something right to make him worthy of the wonderful grace that was the man curled up against his side.

-xXxXx-

_Professor Snape agreed to stay the night and see how good they could be together. It is the perfect ending,_ but._ Anyone would enjoy to see how happy the ending really was, right?_

_For that, we must travel in time once again, ten years from the beginning of the story, because that was when Harry Potter and Professor Snape's relationship stopped evolving. That was when the passion became tempered and familiar, the eagerness for each other dissolved in a sea of affection and the insecurity was overcome by trust._

_It happened so slowly that neither man noticed._

_Harry completed his NEWTs, with an inordinate amount of O's on his marking sheet __– __if you asked Severus __– __and started to work with Mr. Ollivander. Two years later, he had already completed his apprenticeship, when Mr. Ollivander retired, leaving the shop to Harry. Since then, Harry Potter had become_ _the most wanted wandmaker of Europe._

_Then, after four years together, when James was five, the boy asked Professor Snape if he could call him 'father'._

_Harry had walked into the drawing-room to see them curled together in an armchair in front of the fireplace, and the sight was so beautiful that he hadn't been able to interrupt them. Afterwards, when he returned to the room to suggest that they went to bed, they were already gone. Harry had found them in James bedroom, the boy asleep and Severus gazing at him with a pained expression on his face._

"You're scared," _Harry had said, between chuckles. Then, his face had softened when he pressed a kiss gentle to the Professor's cheek. His eyes had been shining merrily when he locked his gaze with his lover._ "You feel like new. You feel like you were conceded a magnificent grace; you think that this_—_" _He had pointed at James then_. "_—_is the one think you did right, because, no matter how good you are everything else, this is the only thing you gave this world that makes you feel accomplished, that is yours and truly yours. He is your absolution for all the wrong things you've done."

_That night Severus Snape let tears pool in his eyes and then he allowed himself to shed them. Only later on, carefully wrapped in the arms of his lover, he realised that he had_ wept _for the first time in practically forty years. That was the night when Professor Snape decided that they would indeed be together forever and that was when he proposed to Harry Potter._

_A year after that, they had had their second child, Grace, a raven-haired girl, with a rosy mouth and big dark eyes. Two years after that, Edwin was born, also raven-haired and dark-eyed; he was the only one who had the Professor's hooked nose – logically, since he was the only one fathered by Severus._

_After Edwin's birth, Professor Snape resigned from his position at Hogwarts and started to do research for the Ministry; he ended publishing a book with most of his original potions. Others, he kept for himself._

_So, it was only after these many battles and trials that the frenzy of being in love settled, and both men found themselves so deeply attached that they could not imagine a life without the other._

_That's what it meant to love each other._

TBC

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**Thank you for reading.**


	5. Epilogue

**Rating:** M/NC-17

**Disclaimer:** This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended – _Standard disclaimer_.

**Warnings:** Foul language and explicit sexual content between two males – slash; angst; hurt/comfort; family fluffiness; spoilers; AR.

**Words:** ~7,000

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**Epilogue**

By Dani-ko  
Beta'd by WithDemonWings

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-_January, 8th of 2010-_-

It was a mid-winter night and Grimmauld Place was covered in white snow. The Place looked the same it always did, except now, between the number 11 and the number 13, there was a number 12. The Muggle residents of the Place didn't notice any change because, for them, it was like that house had always been there, looking ancient and solid, but bright and homely.

Inside the number 12, in the master bedroom, underneath the heavy covers that fought against the cold, Severus pulled Harry against him, searching for the younger man's lips. Harry complied right away, surrendering to his husband without a fight. Sometimes he fought back for dominance and sometimes he won, but tonight he was willing to give in to Severus. Soft lips closed against the other rosy pair, while the men tasted each other, felt each other. Their arms entwined and their tongues moved against together easily and sensuously.

The candles flickered with the stray magic that hung in the air, until only two were lit up, setting a dark orange glow around the room.

Harry pressed his body against his husband's, while arousing hands roamed freely. Their clothes were discarded and thrown over the covers, as the men pressed their naked bodies against the other and frotted eagerly. Shifting his body for leverage, Severus pushed Harry onto his back and rolled on top of him, their lips never parting, even though their tongues were clashing ferociously. Harry whimpered and tried, fruitlessly, to thrust against Severus' crotch, desperately seeking pleasure.

Propping himself on his knees, Severus pushed Harry's legs apart until the man's thighs rested on his hips. He leaned down and claimed Harry's lips again, only nibbling gently on them; then, moving downwards, over the strong jaw and soft neck. Severus worshipped the expanse of skin, while Harry moaned his appreciation, thrusting up shamelessly until they were both so aroused that foreplay had to be forgone.

They never tore their eyes away from one another, as Severus thrust two slick fingers into Harry and began scissoring them, stretching the eager opening. Harry panted and keened and soon enough neither of them could take the teasing any longer.

"I'm not—ha—in need for much preparation, Sev," Harry panted breathlessly as he clutched blindly to the covers beneath him, in a meagre attempt to ground himself. Severus smiled and bent his head to kiss Harry passionately, gladly receiving the man's whimpers as he abused Harry's prostrate. Severus shifted slightly, letting his good leg support his weight and, with one swift motion, he filled Harry with himself. Harry choke back a sob, then rocked his hips gently to adjust himself. "Move."

Severus started to move, slowly, gently, planting soft kisses along his husband's cheeks. He looked down to see Harry's eyes roll close and a whimper exit his lips; Harry's tresses were moving in time with Severus' thrusts and his body was glistening with sweat, while his green eyes focused once again on the man on top of him. Severus leaned back on his heels so that he could thrust further in and the bed covers slid down his body, pooling around his hips, exposing his nude back to the cold, but it didn't matter anymore.

Their tempo quickened impossibly, and Harry bit his lip to prevent himself from moaning aloud; then, he curled his arms around Severus' neck and pulled the man down, spreading himself wider, eagerly taking his mouth and crying out into the kiss.

Severus reached between them and pulled at Harry's erection quickly, because he could not hold back any longer. Harry came with a muffled groan, all over his own chest, losing himself, while Severus thrust in deep, cried victoriously and then froze above him. After a moment, he began to thrust shallowly, riding his pleasure and giving Harry his until they both came down from their passion-induced high.

"Good heavens," Severus breathed after a moment, slumping on his side beside Harry. "Just when I reason it can't possibly get any better . . ." He let the rest of the statement hang in the air, but Harry heard it nonetheless and nodded in recognition, taking deep breaths, trying to recover. Severus reached with his free hand gently caressed the other's abdomen, startling Harry by pulling him against his body all of a sudden. Getting the hint, Harry snuggled against Severus' side, kissing the man on the lips.

Harry stopped suddenly when he remembered something, and turned to his other side; he squinted to distinguish the numbers in the clock on top of his bedside-table. "It's almost midnight," he said. Severus nodded and, solemnly, they waited for the pointer to hit the twelve―

-_January, 9th of 2010-_-

"Happy fiftieth Birthday," Harry said, leaning in for a chaste kiss. Severus pulled Harry against him more securely and deepened the kiss.

"Thank you, Harry," he said and, for some reason he couldn't even begin to fathom, Harry blushed.

It was just that, for Harry, an overwhelmed Severus was a very attractive one; Harry knew he would never get enough of this dashing man beside him. Even considering that Harry was seeing Severus through rose tinted, heart-shaped glasses – with poorly prescribed lenses, by the looks of it – at some level, it was true. Severus was more attractive each day; he was more solid, well-built, and his face had softened into a mild expression that could only mean that this man was deeply loved. Ah, what ten years of love and care can do for a person!

Harry's blush was enough of a recognition, because they settled against each other peacefully once again. After a moment, Harry began to nuzzle on Severus' neck.

"Hum," he purred, "you feel so good." Severus smiled.

"Why, thank you," he replied teasingly, earning a glare from Harry. Severus chuckled, but, after a moment, he sobered and looked at Harry reverently. "It amazes that you are still by my side after all these years." Harry opened his mouth to protest against the self-deprecating speech, but Severus silenced him with his own lips. "I do not mean that I feel myself unworthy or insecure, because I do not—not anymore at least."

"Then, why―" Harry tried to say, but Severus shushed him with another kiss.

"I mean to tell you that you are a grace given to me and you're always deeply appreciated, even if I sometimes―" Harry interrupted him.

"If this is about today's fight . . ." Harry tried, urgently. Severus propped himself on one elbow, in order to have a better view of Harry's face, and gazed at him contemplatively.

Yes, they still fought. Quite a lot actually, but most of the time, it was harmless – and quite amusing, if you ask anyone else – bickering, because their characters clashed, always had. They both had dominant characters and, regardless to say, the house wasn't big enough for both of them. They had had their vulnerable moments, of course, but as they became more secure about themselves and their relationship, the fun had begun.

In the beginning, they were oh-so-in-love that some things hadn't matter. But, of course, then it came the time when those same things became annoying.

It irked Severus to no end when Harry jumped him in the middle of brewing, or when Harry fell asleep on the couch of the family room, or when he left the windows open in the summer. Harry absolutely loathed when Severus slipped and called him 'Mr. Potter', when he used dozens of robes in a week, just because he soiled them while brewing―

_"If you washed your own clothes, I bet you would be more careful!"_

_"I was under the impression that you also didn't wash my own clothes. Or is Izzy on holidays?"_

_"That's not the point! Tell me how you manage to use three robes in_ one _day!"_

―and when Severus got so absorbed in his own reading, working or whatever, and forgot his basic necessities, like feeding himself or even say "Good morning".

Sometimes, however, their disagreements got serious and those fights, they didn't let anybody see. Even if they denied it, they still had their issues. Sometimes, Severus drowned in guilt and self-disgust and, sometimes, Harry felt overwhelmed with grieve and sorrow, and while, most of the time, they helped each other through it, there were times when they just took it out on each other. Like today.

What they never – never – did was hold against the other the things they had done and said before the war. That was in the past and, even if that same past came down to haunt them sometimes, the last thing both of them needed was to have their loved one adding fuel to the fire. It would be infinitely worse.

The quarrels never lasted, though. Edwin would cry out, Grace would hurt herself by bumping against something or James would ask for Severus' help with anything at all, and they would be forcefully reminded why they had got together in the first place. Sometimes, it wasn't even necessary the help of their children, but instead Severus or Harry would say something that reminded them of _before_ – the loneliness, the fear, the longing – and they would give grace for what they had now. Like today.

"I would be lying to you if I said it was not about today's—_strife_," Severus began, at last, "but it's not only about it, Harry." Severus tucked a strand of Harry's hair behind his ear, gently. "I do love you. It seems like a lifetime has passed since I woke up alone in that hospital bed." Harry tensed and looked away, just like Severus unconsciously expected him to.

-xXxXx-

_During the years, every time Severus mentioned the subject, Harry would become withdrawn and distracted, thinking that he should tell Severus that he had never been alone to begin with, but he had never mustered the courage to do so – much to his Gryffindor shame._

_At first, Severus had thought that Harry was just uneasy because of the awkward theme, but then he was not so sure. He never asked and Harry never told him anything._

_Today would be different, though. Because, you see, a year ago, Harry had made a promise not to let another year pass without telling Severus that._

-xXxXx-

Harry could not be sure what it was that he feared, but he knew Severus well enough to know that the man would resent Harry for letting him believe he was unloved. He knew that this lie, this omission, would mean a complete different thing for Severus. It would mean betrayal. Even so, he took a deep breath and looked straight at Severus.

"I have to tell you something." Severus tensed and retreated the hand that had been carding through Harry's black tresses. The younger man pushed himself into a sitting position and turned until he was facing his husband. "I think you'll be mad at me, and I don't want for us to be mad at each other for your birthday, so if you could, you know, postpone your anger until the tenth, it would be appreciated." Severus said nothing, because he could see Harry's affliction, but really? Postpone one's anger?

"I highly doubt you could make me mad at you now, Harry," he reassured mildly, not wanting to distress his husband further. "I'm still in post-coital bliss." Harry smiled half-heartedly at the attempt to lighten the mood. "So, do share what you have done." Harry sighed.

"During the time you were, you know, asleep―"

"It's called a coma, sweetheart," Severus said, and managed a straight-face even, not quite understanding where Harry was going with this. Harry just gave him a look.

"Anyway—you weren't alone." Severus quirked one eyebrow, not amused anymore. He sat back against the headboard, gazing at Harry intently. "I was there with you. I left the first time you squeezed my hand." Silence fell on the room. Severus looked away, trying to process that new piece of information; he schooled his face into blankness, and he could hear Harry shifting uncomfortably in reaction.

"Why did you leave?" he asked finally, aloofly looking at Harry.

"You hated me back then," Harry said, "I never thought you could be glad to see me—someone." He hesitated. Harry knew he had thought that he wouldn't be able to handle Severus' hatred after sitting with him for three months, feeding his fantasies of romance and happiness.

The older man sat in silence for a while longer, but he wasn't mad. Maybe he would have been ten years ago, but it didn't matter anymore. Severus held Harry's hand on top of the covers and tugged on it, until Harry got the hint and motioned forward, straddling Severus' hips. A bit awkwardly, as if he still wasn't used to this sort of intimacy, Severus pulled Harry to his chest and held him. A moment passed by, and Harry finally relaxed.

"I think I can understand why you feared my reaction, Harry," Severus began, because he still felt the shadow of his past bitterness and forged indifference. "But it happened so long ago that it doesn't matter. Perhaps it would have mattered at the time, but my anger would not have been personally caused by you." It wouldn't, because, at the time, Severus had been drowning in regret and sorrow for himself and Harry would have been a personification of his wrong deeds – quite literally, if you consider that everything began with that blasted Prophecy – and the man probably would have taken the blunt of Severus' frustrations. "Everything happens at its time."

"Yeah." Harry nodded and snuggled closer, while he Summoned their pyjamas wandlessly, handing Severus his. Then, lying down and pulling Severus to lie next to him, he Summoned the covers and wrapped them both safely in their warmth. Just before he let the comfort of the bed get to his mind, Harry lifted his head to look at his husband. "So, everything's okay, right?" Severus gave him a small smile.

"I believe so," he said, pausing dramatically for emphasis. "Unless you have any complaints?" Harry grinned and resumed his previous position. The lights went out with a flick of Severus' wand, and the man made himself comfortable as well.

Moments after, they were both deeply asleep.

Hours later, the sun drifted past the curtains of the window, and hit the raven-haired man square in the face.

Harry frowned and turned to the other side, curling up against his husband. The sun wasn't warm and its light was diffused by the frost caked outside the window, and it was still too bloody early to be woken up. After a moment, Severus' arms encircled his middle and he pulled the younger man securely against his body.

"You know it's useless to make yourself comfortable, since we're about to be attacked by midgets," Severus grouched, but his voice was sweet like honey and it made Harry's body twinge pleasantly. He laid his head on the older man's shoulder, burying his face in Severus' neck and placed soft kisses on his jaw.

"Oh, yes?" Harry asked, feigning innocence. "And why is that?" Severus didn't even bother to hide his smile.

"Brat," he accused, but there was no spite in his words and the general effect of the complaint was lost when he turned his neck to the side to grant Harry better access. Harry laughed.

"You know, some people might say that the first sign that tells you you're getting old is when you call a thirty year-old man a brat," he pointed out, teasing. Nothing pleased Severus more that to see that happy gleam in Harry's lovely eyes when he tried to bait him. Feeling the sudden need for intimacy, Severus pulled Harry on top of him, until the younger man sat, straddling his hips. A tell-tale blush made its way to Harry's cheeks.

"You know we don't have the time," he warned. Severus knew that and he hadn't even planned on doing anything – until Harry spoke, that is.

"Blasted children," he complained mildly, not meaning a word he said, as he ran his hands over Harry's legs just the way he liked it. "No sense of timing _at_ _all_."

Harry laughed again and leaned in to steal a kiss from the man beneath him, just because he could, mapping Severus' chest gently. Severus opened his mouth without prompting and they moved their tongues and bodies against the other, seeking warmth and pleasure. It was Severus who broke the kiss, allowing himself to nibble on Harry's rosy lips, before he pushed the man off of him. It was right on time actually.

Three children broke into the room, the first one being a four-year old girl, with black curls waving behind her as she ran into the room and climbed onto the bed, yelling all the way. Behind them, an apparently floating tray full of food entered the room quietly.

"Wa-ke up! Wa-ke up! Wa-ke up!" Grace started to jump on the bed, between Harry and Severus. "Happy Birthday!" she shouted at last and threw herself into Severus' arms, hugging tightly and kissing his cheeks fiercely. Harry chuckled at the look of distress on Severus' face, as the girl must be about to choke him; still, he didn't complain. Instead, he hugged her tiny body back and kissed – once – her rosy cheek.

Harry felt a pull on his pyjama pants and looked down to see two-year old Edwin trying to climb up. With a smile, Harry pulled him up by his armpits and settled him against his chest. Edwin was shy and didn't like people much, so, most of the time, he just clung to Harry as if he were a lifeline. As it was, it was a surprise when Edwin took his sister place on Severus' lap and let himself be hugged by his other father. The pleased gleam on Severus' eyes was priceless – at least, for Harry it was.

James sat down on Severus' side of the bed and also hugged the man, wishing him "Happy Birthday" in a more subdued way. Grace kept on jumping on the bed, and, once Edwin return to his rightful place on Harry's lap – by his own volition, since Severus wouldn't refuse the child's rare affections – the older man pulled Grace onto his lap and petted her hair until the girl sighed, exhausted from all the excitement, and slumped against Severus' chest. Harry chuckled in amusement; nobody could control Grace except Severus.

"That's my girl," Severus praised, shifting to a more comfortable position. James settled in front of them, while Harry took the tray from Izzy – who had been carrying it on her head.

" 'Ook, 'ook!" Grace exclaimed, trying to break free from Severus' grasp, while pointing at the tray. "We made you breakfast!" Harry caught sight of James rolling his eyes and smiled conspirationally at the boy. Edwin was sucking on his thumb and was almost asleep on Harry's chest. Both of the men were sure that the boy had been taken from his bed by his crazily happy-go-lucky sister. In an attempt to keep Edwin awake for the exchange of presents, Harry Summoned the gifts – hidden on top of the closet – and set them in the end of the bed.

"Maybe we should give Daddy the presents now," Harry suggested. "What do you think, Edwin?" The boy lifted his head in recognition, and looked at Severus, who flashed him a gentle smile. The boy blushed and smiled back.

" 'Kay," he agreed.

As if she had been waiting for permission and had just been granted it, Grace scooted towards the end of the bed – good thing that Severus remembered to put the tray on the floor for the time being – and returned with a rectangular-shaped box, messily wrapped. Opening it quickly, Severus retrieved a hand-made notebook. On the cover, it had a picture of Severus brewing, drawn by Grace and Edwin had put some colourful hand-prints and with 'Our Potions Master' written in bold red in James handwriting. On the inside, there were some potions invented by them. Severus barely held back a laugh.

"Dear me," Severus commented with a grin that showed his pointy teeth. "Such talented children I have. May I ask who did this?"

"Me, it was me!" Grace exclaimed on cue; then, she sobered somewhat. "James and Edwin too, 'course." James looked at his sister exasperatedly, while Edwin giggled helplessly. Harry winked at him.

"Of course," Severus agreed, setting it aside carefully. "Oh, it seems I have many gifts this year." Harry almost snorted at Severus' acting skills. Of course he had, he had even helped Harry pick up some. Harry reasoned that their children trusted them implicitly, because nobody would be fooled by that act. As such, after a lot of fake _oh_'s and _ah_'s as he opened the presents, Severus was left with a silver dagger, some ancient book, a bottle of perfume, one more book and a new cloak.

"Okay, now breakfast," Harry commanded. The tray was set back on the bed and, between the two men, the three children were healthily fed.

"Grace," Severus admonished, with that tone that left no place for complaints, "eat your toast if you please." As he finished talking, Severus sent Harry a sideways glance, looking thoughtful.

It was a silly game, really. It started on their first year together. Not knowing if he had presumed too much when buying Severus a birthday gift, Harry hadn't said a word about the subject all day, nor did Severus, which had made Harry withdrawn, which by itself only made Severus more withdrawn. After this torture, Harry had finally snapped and decided that, whether Severus liked it or not, they were going to celebrate his existence.

Harry had never seen Severus looking so relieved, which was quite a feat considering that he had been bathing when Harry burst into the bathroom with a glittering box and shouting "Happy Birthday".

Sometimes, Harry's awkwardness was adorable; and sometimes, it was just inconvenient. As it was, since then, it had become a private joke, and they would try to surprise the other with their present. Harry was always the first one to break, which made Severus very glad that he had married such an affectionate person because, silly as it seemed, he was unable to give up his pride in such small matters.

"Papa," Edwin called, tugging on Harry's pyjama shirt. "A'en't you goin' to say Happy Bi'th-day?" With a burlesque long-suffering sigh, Harry looked at Severus and his eyes were shinning wickedly.

"I guess I should," he said, in mock defeat. "Happy Birthday," the younger man said gently, trying to hide his happy smile. Severus tried to hide his, too. Both of them failed, but neither cared much, as they leaned in and shared a chaste kiss.

"Ewww!" Grace exclaimed, bringing the men back to reality, where she had spilled her orange juice all over the beddings. James chuckled and Edwin giggled at the look of surprise in their parents faces as they took in the children in front of them. "Sorry," the little girl apologised. Harry just shook his head in exasperation. In times like these, Harry was reminded of Tonks very vividly. He cast a Cleaning Charm over the bed, while Severus filled the girl's glass again.

"Come, come, Grace, eat up," Severus said. The girl did as she was told without further delay. Harry simply lean back and fed Edwin his banana, letting James, Grace and Severus' bickering lull him into a sense of being wrapped in a cocoon of safety and happiness.

-xXxXx-

Harry looked up from the book he was reading at the grandfather-clock near the entrance of Grimmauld's Place family room to see that they should probably begin to get ready for the party.

At his feet, Edwin was very entertained in his play yard, playing with his magic blocks, and Grace was playing with her dolls further to the side – one of the dressed-up dolls magically waved at him when he gazed at his daughter; Harry shuddered: those creepy little things would have never set a foot in his house if he hadn't been told that it was a common gift for Wizarding children. James was in school, since it was a week day, though Harry chose to remain at home and close the shop on holidays.

"Kreacher!" Harry called. Immediately, the ugly house-elf Apparated at his side, bowing slightly in greeting.

"Master Harry called?" the creature asked, politely, since it was obvious that Harry had indeed called.

"Yes. Could you please go tell Severus that is time to finish up in the lab?" Kreacher narrowed his eyes at Harry, who shrugged helplessly.

"Kreacher thinks Master is a coward," the creature said under his breath, but Harry knew he would do as he was told. The house-elf's colourful opinion wasn't entirely a lie, though, because Harry dreaded to interrupt Severus when he was working. Oh, it was not that the man got angry, no – not about that, at least – but, as Harry had discovered very early in their relationship, Severus appeared to have a lab-fetish. After getting late for too many parties and events, Harry had simply given up altogether to enter the man's working room.

Trusting Kreacher and Izzy to make the necessary arrangements for the party, Harry took Grace and Edwin to the nursery and proceeded to make the children presentable for their guests. Regardless to say, Grace complained the whole time, causing Harry to almost lose his patience. When he was done, James arrived via Floo and Harry had to make sure that he was all set as well.

As it was, it was only after an hour and a half that Harry finally entered the master bedroom to get ready. Severus was limping out of their bathroom, drying his hair and complaining all the while, this time about the colour of the clothes he was supposed to wear. Harry was vividly reminded of Grace then – damned cohabitation. He sighed exasperatedly. Nobody could drive him crazy faster than his family. Severus turned around when he heard Harry, with his eyes shining merrily, and Harry had to let go of his annoyance.

"You and Grace are going to be the death of me," he said in guise of explanation, answering the question posed by Severus' quirked eyebrow. At Harry's response, though, Severus smirked at him.

"She can be impossible," he agreed, "and that's why I'm so very proud of her. That girl is going to be a Slytherin." Harry rolled his eyes. Severus said the same thing about James and Edwin, and Harry couldn't wait for them to enter Hogwarts so that he could rub in the man's face how all of them would be sorted into Gryffindor – not that it mattered to him, but since it irked Severus, he kept on saying it.

"We'll see," he replied, non-committally. Not that any of them would share it with others, but they sort of had a standing bet on the subject, and while one of them – Severus – was so very sure he would win, the other – Harry – did so enjoy the teasing and bickering.

"What is that tone I hear?" the older man asked, amused. Severus approached Harry, who was peeling off his own clothes, and pulled him against his chest, kissing his lips gently. Harry tried to suppress a smile, but the smile won and Harry grinned dashingly at the man.

Unable to resist a quick snog, they ended up taking more time than they had intended, but soon enough, they were greeting their guests in the entrance hall, with the three children near them.

"Harry!" Hermione exclaimed, wrapping her arms around Harry and hugging him close. They were standing in the newly decorated hall of Grimmauld Place, where – thank heavens – Mrs. Black was missing. Severus was standing behind him, politely greeting their guests as well, and he wasn't even scowling, which was a major feat in itself, since Harry had had to fight tooth and nail to make the man agree to throw a party every year on his birthday.

Hermione finally let go; they hadn't seen each other in only a week, but Hermione was always exuberant in her greetings. Remus stepped in his wife's place and gave Harry a one-armed hug, since he was holding his newborn baby in his other arm.

It had taken Hermione almost ten years, but she had managed to convince Remus to procreate. While he had been mildly reluctant about having a relationship with someone twenty-years his junior, he had outright denied Hermione when she breached the children subject. Hermione hadn't been deterred, refused a divorce and had been victorious in the end. The child, Connor, had been the result. Of course that she didn't know about Severus threatening Remus with body harm if he didn't make up his mind at once – in fact, Harry wasn't supposed to know that either.

"Seriously, Granger, what about some elegance?" drawled a voice from behind the couple. A moment later, Draco Malfoy came into sight, framed by the street lights from the doorway, with that annoying smirk of his. "In that big head of yours you must have the meaning of the word," he said. Hermione, who had been greeting Severus, turned her head sharply to glare at the blond.

"Oh, and pray tell, Malfoy," she gritted out, "do _you_ know what it means? I'm sure that it means something like this: 'annoy Hermione again and she'll hex you into next year'." Draco glared right back, while Remus and Severus chuckled at the exchange, the latter leading their guests into the parlour.

Astoria, Draco's wife, held onto her husband's arm and gracefully greeted the hosts, quietly apologising for Draco's unbecoming behaviour. Harry just waved her off and bid her a good time, then smiled at the two blond children that preceded their parents into the house, Lyra and Perseus, twin siblings of eight years old.

By the time Harry entered to the parlour, Severus had already got his presents – politely set aside for opening later – and congratulations. Izzy came by with drinks and entrées, and after a while the conversation was flowing naturally.

Mr. and Mrs. Weasley arrived soon after, wearing the same benevolent smiles Harry had come to associate with them, with George and his new 'toy', a beautiful blonde that towered over him, wearing high-heels and a too tight dress. The elder couple greeted Severus with the ease of knowing each other for most of their lives, while Melinda just stood awkwardly next to George.

Although she seemed like all the other chits George dated for the past thirteen years, Melinda had a glint in her eyes that showed perspicacity and intelligence. She was very polite and, even though she was embarrassed about meeting Harry Potter and his unlikely husband, she was extremely discreet in her interest. Harry felt an immediate kinship and Severus was convinced during supper.

The table was already set. It truly looked lovely – despite all his stubbornness and tendency to boss around his own master – Severus had to admit that the damn house-elf sure knew how to serve.

The candles that lit the table were red, just as were the roses in the centre – which Harry had gone to pick up at the florist or Kreacher would give him 'The Look'. The tableware was porcelain white with red patterns and the glasses were crystal – an old Prince inheritance. The tablecloth was burgundy red and had one fine white linen cover over it. The silverware was polish and metrically placed beside the plates.

They took their places and many dishes magically appeared on the table.

"Are you having fun, Melinda?" Mrs. Weasley asked kindly, after a while, since the woman was looking a bit lost among the guests. The conversation had been focused mainly on the Minister and their politics, since all of them had jobs affected by it one way or another. Even if Harry was self-employed, he still spent most of his time persecuted by those endless lobbyists. Being a chaser for the Canadian _Meteorites_, Melinda was not familiar with the British events.

"Yes, thank you," she replied politely, smiling at the Weasley matriarch. "I'm finding all these intrigues fascinating. Mr. Potter sure seems to have a busy life." The blonde flashed Harry a dashing grin. George was looking at her as she spoke, looking a tad mesmerized by the girl.

"Please, call me Harry," Harry requested, a bit embarrassed. Melinda smiled brightly and nodded, looking slightly hesitant before continuing.

"I saw all of your games back when you played for the Puddlemore United," she told him cautiously, not knowing if he was willing to talk about the subject, but unintentionally, she brought the conversation to a theme that made Harry, Draco and George lean forward in interest. Severus and Hermione groaned in exasperation, making Remus chuckle merrily. "You were brilliant up there. I can't believe you retired at such young age." Harry cleared his throat nervously, since that brought up the whole Ginny issue.

Harry always went beyond himself not to breach that subject. He had, of course, explained to James, a couple of years ago, that his mother had been ill by the time she had died, but he had never elaborated just how delusional she had been. Severus had said that they should have a serious conversation with James before he started Hogwarts, just in case the boy heard a tendentious or exaggerated version of the facts from other students. Harry was dreading the moment, but he knew that was the right thing to do.

As the awkward silence stretched – even if Melinda hadn't noticed – Draco came in his defence.

"I understand that you never saw me play, or else you'd never say that Potter is brilliant," he drawled and Melinda frowned at the personal attack against the host.

"Hey!" Harry protested, shooting a glare at the blond, who smirked, challenging.

"You wish, Ferret," George put in, "Harry could beat you anytime, couldn't you, mate?"

Harry shouted "Yeah!" at the same time Severus spoke.

"Do not worry, Melinda," the man intervened, in his aloof dulcet tones, when he saw her confusion. "The feud between these two has lasted for almost twenty-years, I'm afraid we all have got used to it." Everyone laughed at Harry and Draco's feeble denials.

"It's true, dear," Astoria intervened, addressing Melinda. "You should have seen Draco last week, deciding what gift to bring Severus. Absolutely maniacal, almost scared the children. I wouldn't have made much of it, I know I married a mad man," she teased, looking at Draco with a mischievous smile, "but he kept muttering silly things about 'beating Potter' and utter nonsense."

"Astoria!" Draco exclaimed, appalled. "That's not true, but if it were, have you ever heard of family loyalty?" That sent the others into another fit of laughter. Even Severus chuckled behind his hand. Astoria smiled wickedly at her husband and Harry was assaulted again by the distinct impression that the woman should have been a Gryffindor.

"Face it, Draco," Hermione put in, taking Astoria's side in the playful accusation, "you and Harry are totally obsessed with each other. Harry works out daily just to beat you on your monthly Quidditch match."

"Hermione!" Harry protested, embarrassed, but a sight of Severus' unusual grin made him oddly alright with public humiliation. "That's not true!"

"Lying is unbecoming of you, Harry," Severus teased, putting a hand on Harry's thigh, as if to apologise for making a joke at his expense. Harry couldn't be happier to see Severus so at ease around those who he come to think as their family. Grinning helplessly, Harry turned to Severus, pretending to pout.

"You're supposed to take my side," he pointed out. Severus patted his thigh once and retreated his hand. Melinda felt her heart swell at the way Harry blushed and Severus' lips twitched upwards, and how their eyes glinted with so much pleasure at the sight of the other.

"It's embarrassing to see, isn't it?" Hermione whispered to Melinda, a tad too loudly for it to be a discreet comment. Something in her tone caught Harry's attention.

"What?" he asked defensively.

"The way you two are undressing each other with your eyes," Draco drawled and he did look a bit nauseous. "There are some things a boy shouldn't know about his godfather."

"You're hardly a boy, _Malfoy_," Harry pointed out, crossing his arms childishly. Then, at the other, "We weren't doing anything _at all_."

"I's lovely to see," Melinda reassured them. Unable to help himself, Severus snorted, making Harry glare at him for his rudeness. "It gives hope to the rest of us," she said and smiled gently.

Harry had long ago figured that the word 'hope' was the trigger to Severus' most pleasant persona, but nobody else knew that. As such, when the man smiled apologetically at the athlete, she couldn't help but to blush in awe. Severus frowned in confusion at Melinda's reaction, making George smirk at him.

"Love suits you, Professor," he said, not teasingly at all, "anyone can see that." The silence that followed was a tad awkward, but as usual, Draco turned the mood.

"So, Potter, have you given Severus his present?" the blond asked, nonchalantly, but everyone could see the train of thought. Harry glared at him, but answered nonetheless.

"Yes," Severus said, at the same time that Harry said, "_No_." They looked at each other in confusion. "I distinctly counted five presents this morning, Harry," Severus pointed out. Harry grinned brightly.

"That was from me and the children," he explained. "I'll give my present to you later." Severus' eyes flashed with awareness at Harry's words, and, if Harry noticed, everyone else noticed too. Then again, everyone knew what to expect for.

"Ewww!" Draco exclaimed, pretending to gag. Harry gave him a look.

"You sound like my daughter," Harry informed him, matter-of-factly. Draco's reply was to stuck out his tongue, making the others laugh at their childish antics. "Definitely like my daughter."

It was Hermione who changed the subject, and everyone easily fell into the conversation. The night passed by peacefully, even as they retreated for the parlour once again.

At Draco's insistence, who managed to attract the children to his cause, Severus opened his presents, which were truly thoughtful. It never ceased to surprise Harry how his surrogate family had accept this man so readily, but then, the Weasleys had always been known for their odd breed.

That was why it saddened him to see Mr. and Mrs. Weasley a shadow of what they were, but he could not imagine the pain of losing a child. Unsurprisingly, he understood that better since he had had James. It was not just Fred, but then Ginny became unbalanced and dangerous and their other children broke the ties with the family, moving abroad or just not visiting. Oddly enough, Percy was the only one that visited regularly, but the visits were always sombre. It was as if everyone of them could not help but to see the late loved ones in the others.

When Harry shared this with his husband, Severus had said that that was what wars did. They broke the core of the society, messing with something as sacred as families.

Harry had felt depressed after hearing that, and Severus, not wanting to see his husband so sad, had been quick to share with him that everyone could see how the Weasleys were healing. Harry had Hermione had given them a new family and, even if nothing could replace the old one, they could still be happy. Even Draco had become an addiction to their family.

Both his and Astoria's parents were rotting in Azkaban, still suffering from the pain of having lost their Master. It had been a terribly price to pay for bearing the Mark, and Draco had never been so thankful for not having taken it. Not everyone could be as strong as Severus and even he had suffered enough during his early years as spy for denying his Master. Yes, Draco was glad for his choices, and he was sorry for his parents', truly, but he also knew they had never been truly a family.

His family was right there in the not-so-shadowy-anymore parlour of Grimmauld Place. His children called Grandmother and Grandfather to the Weasley couple and Draco couldn't have cared less that they weren't related by blood. What did blood matter, anyway?

"Potter," Draco called suddenly, catching the raven-haired man's attention. "Where the hell―"

"Draco, dear!" Astoria admonished hastily. Draco smiled apologetically at her.

"Sorry, sweetheart," he said; then, turned to Harry and his expression hardened to a challenging scowl. "Where is that disc I gave you last year?"

Harry knew he was talking about the vinyl record Draco had brought on his last party, complaining about the lack of music. Harry pointed the closet where they kept the gramophone and, soon enough, music filed the room. Draco pulled Hermione to her feet and spun with her across the less furnished part of the room – right in front of the Black tapestry. George followed with Melinda by hand, and he Weasley couple did the same.

The children had been playing in the family room across the floor, but as the night wore on, they started to fall asleep on the weirdest places – how did the twins and James managed to fall asleep behind the couch was beyond them – except for Connor, who stayed on his baby chair most of the night and was now deeply asleep. The parents made sure the children were comfortable, before returning to the parlour to their friends.

Harry was the last one to do so. There was another record playing now, and Draco was dancing with Astoria, Hermione with Remus and George with his mother.

Discreetly, Severus nodded with his head towards the doorway, hinting at Harry to meet him outside the room. Harry walked out, excusing himself to Mr. Weasley, and then loitered in the hall, waiting for his husband.

After a moment, Severus appeared and, without giving Harry the time to speak, pushed the younger man against the wall of alcove under the stairs. Severus pressed his body against Harry's and, with a moan, took Harry's mouth and plundered it mercilessly. Harry allowed himself to be ravished, and he just _knew_ that Severus had been dying to do this since Harry had promised him his present, during dinner.

They broke up the contact for air, while Severus sucked eagerly on Harry's neck. Harry brought on leg up and propped it on Severus' hip, urging the man to move against his crotch. Severus shifted and supported himself on his healthy leg, thrusting more passionately than either of them had intended.

"Are you going to tell me—a_h_—what you've got for me?" Severus asked, his voice hoarse and low. Harry whimpered, resting his head on the man's shoulder, eagerly spreading himself wider.

"Anything: ribbons, paddles, restraints," Harry breathed, "anything you want from me tonight, it's yours." Severus shuddered, and kissed the other again, this time gentler and slowly. Their movements began to built pace once again, as they held onto each other tightly, seeking release―

"Just for you to know," drawled a voice from outside the room, behind the closed door. Harry groaned in frustration, but Severus paled, ashamed at being caught. "We are kind of tired of you leaving your guests to go dry-hump each other every year."

THE END

* * *

**Thank you for reading.**

**Afterword―**

So, that's a wrap. I truly hope you enjoyed and expect that you take your time to tell me what you think, even if it's just "I loved _blah_, _blah_."

I have to say that I truly am proud of this story. I never read anything quite like it, so I hope it falls in the original side. It went just the way I planned it to, though I had some issues in almost every chapter. I had to struggle to keep them IC, to assure that things wouldn't be going too fast, that they truly got to know each other. I think I succeeded, but it's your opinion that matters.

Also, you may have noticed that I embraced one cliché in particular.

It's my personal favourite, which is: 'Severus is not as ugly as people made him'. Well, the man is ugly, it's everywhere on the original books and everyone knows it. However, the greasy, thin part can be changed. I mean, nowadays, I think it's hard for a person to be truly ugly. You can have bad teeth, a gigantic nose and be a walking skeleton, but, if you brush yourself up and have self-confidence, you can look really good and be sexy. It's a matter of self-confidence.

I can totally see Severus taking better care of himself, having a good diet, showering with nice products – or _showering_, period – smiling and just being happy. It can do wonders for a person. It may still have crooked teeth, too many scars and an ugly nose, but it's fine.

From what I could understand from the canon Severus was a proud man, confident about his magical abilities and intelligence. He just never cared about other people or impressing other people. The one he wanted didn't want him, so he just didn't care. I don't think it's that much of a stretch to have him looking better over the years, if given the chance.

There's also something funny about this. I was convinced, when I started writing the story, that Severus was indeed Draco's godfather. Then, I found out it was only in the fanon. I thought about changing it, but hey, I reasoned that I'm not plagiarising anyone in particular, so . . .

Anyway, do tell me what you think.


End file.
